Alone upon this wretched stone,
Contorted, bent and torn, paper-like ragged clothing.
We the universal ashes, the brotherless bone,
Utter from hearts made barren by their loathing.
So sands soak seas, and grasses devour the sun.
Still are we not orphaned by apathetic tides?
That kiss and tickle, dampening our ambition.
And reminding us with the toll, that within us dread presides.
Broken sickles warily monument this soil.
Weakened authors draw visions of a new land,
But stand bare-faced and burnt, tormented in toil.
Yet and yes, with softness I will kiss your hand,
My love seclusion, let us exhaust ourselves together.
- Author: David Wakeling ( Offline)
- Published: February 24th, 2024 20:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
Comments3
Beautiful work.
Thank you so much.
Beautiful use of language and poetic expression in your stanzas. A talented write. I enjoyed reading your work David.
Coming from you that is praise indeed.thank you
You are welcome:)
Wonderful words David.
Andy
Thank you very much.
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