Streets are dark
Weather foul
Buildings grey
In the old town
Funeral procession
Cobbled roads
Noisy wheels
Carriage rolls.
Black plumes
Dawn it wanes
Lashing rain
Winding lanes
Graveyard path
In gravel slides
Dislodging pennies
Over poets eyes.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: January 6th, 2026 03:32
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments1
Dirges of the dead in this poem that laments the death of poetry. Although not as popular as it once was, and how could it be in a society now almost illiterate, it still stimulated a few. Not like TikTok with its millions of view a few thousand is considered a lot. Well done
appreciated, thanks
You are most welcome
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