Yard by yard
Miles, distances without markers
Define our space, our bond;
Inch by inch
the stone-rows grow
Box-men and babies, spinsters and thieves
sense and covet, rattle and rage
that they should have the hurt, the hate
we feel, we live this day.
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Author:
Fränz Müller (
Offline) - Published: June 3rd, 2025 20:56
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Damaso
Offline)
Comments2
That's quite a powerful and poignant write, nicely expressed
Powerful and dark it speaks of death and pain of ground gained in a struggle, whether a battle literal or of life itself all comes to the same end. This was a very well written piece and a fave.
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