In the recess sleep
The violent madmen
Sweating tongues
Of raging verse
The alcohol drenched
Veins protuding
Twitching nerves
A voice to curse.
Centuries old
A well walked path
Marble footsteps
Etched through time
A bitterness fuelled
In poverty
Injustice
And wanton crime.
Idle ghosts
Demons rasp
In lands betwix
A haunted past
Words have spirit
To kill or die
Trapped in vapour
A violent eye.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: September 7th, 2025 02:35
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
Offline)
Comments2
A poem speaking of the power of the words used by poet, historian, madman. Nicely done in this rather haunting poem
thanking you, much appreciated
You are most welcome
Wow, this is haunting and intense. The imagery of violence, history, and lingering injustice is so vivid. Nicely written.
most kind, thanking you and appreciated
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