The Giant


How giant the man sitting on the mount,

Who has ang'r at any very tall.

The red across many inches floods

Of the ancient temple where monks dwell.

No judging casual, do not mislead

People of ignorance to flame-hell

Which in the past was paradise.

Giant man drew cities down to ground,

With for desire sole avarice.

His shadow muffles flowers off

The mirror reflecting beauty,

The sparkle He doesn't like.

He is silence, He is habit;

He is full of power, but not real

In the vagrants' pure minds.

What I saw, what I said.

This is what one modern feels.

  • Author: lvdgone (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 9th, 2023 09:05
  • Comment from author about the poem: Welcome all comments and criticism.
  • Category: Fable
  • Views: 5
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  • Jack Campbell

    If up is down wwhat is down

    • lvdgone

      Apparently down is up.

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