Even measured in acres
seeming like valuable real estate, it is in fact only dirt
can be tilled and graded and seeded and fertilized
made to resemble rich turf, a valuable plot
but remains dirt
almost as a glass apple only appears to be
though no skin to peel to reveal sweet flesh
is at least visual while dirt
must be cleaned off of almost everything
revealed in sad archeology
so the insult I hurl; you are dirt
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Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: November 10th, 2024 01:23
- Comment from author about the poem: Obviously directed at an old nemesis who done me seriously wrong.
- Category: Letter
- Views: 32
Offline)
Comments4
Ouch' .. I trust you have a good aim sir .. an intriguing poem which gives rise to one immediate question .. are muck and dirt the same .. and did you get him presuming it is, or was a he .. Okay, I know that's two questions but who's counting .. Neville
Sorry, but it does not remain dirt, it is as in the lines above that and probably what is in part keeping you unfulfilled and in this instance angry.
An intriguing point that leads one down the dirt road to the dirt fill. I know it is meant as an insult so I won’t pursue the positive side. Great poem.
It's true of all of us, we all return to dirt.
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