Across the bridge
The women come -
And go into the town,
To talk of Mrs. Agnes Brown.
Defer the potential hilarity of prayer -
Open a gate or two
Cross the fields and find that place
Where profanity is valid -
Confront the giddy vernacular of that blackest hole,
The unlikely calculus of our being or being not
And those pages of impossible sums:
Cease to wonder why the old folk,
Beat their ancient drums.
-
Author:
Danny Quinn (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 28th, 2026 09:24
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship
Offline)
Comments3
I love the composition of this piece its vernacular and course it takes it runs like flowing water down a hill. Nicely composed it speaks to me.
nicely done
Thank you. It's my first try in this wider world.
Hello Old Timer. Got something to say about old folks experience of the world? 'Sorry, can't help you there !😂
Have good time at MPS - it is a venue where it is possible to have a free exchange of views plus the ability to post your poetic observations.
Thank you 'young 'un'. I'll do my best to stay lively! That's something I used to tell the children - and they did.
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