As the windless rain patters,
And nature whimsically scatters,
The prey at bay, its hunt is gay,
The catch it matters.
The sun, rising ever slow,
Around the earth it goes,
And morn and night,
An endless plight.
Upon then still, the winds of time,
Will change their blow, unknown and strewed.
Clinched, and caught, trapped in a box.
And eaten in prelude.
And finally dine, the mouths of kings,
Natures crime, golden rings.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 20th, 2025 06:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments3
A most contemplative poem this Sunday morn, food for thought that is most satisfying! Thoroughly enjoyed!
Im glad u enjoyed it. Thanks for reading.:)
Cryptic, a puzzle well written with a most interesting rhyme scheme it talks to me in metaphor. A fave
Thanks Soren.
My pleasure
BRAVO
Thank you for the bravo.
You're welcome
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