Ever tried talking to a green fly?
Ever gazed upon those emerald eyes?
I did once. It didn't reply
It was just a green fly.
So I crushed it,
Between my thumb and forefinger.
I didn’t care.
It was just a green fly.
It’s what the Lord has done I can’t forgive.
He’s damned our poor souls to live.
Waiting,
Between his thumb and forefinger.
Hollow little green flies.
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Author:
Robert Buckley (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 19th, 2017 12:38
- Comment from author about the poem: I wrote this in about ten minutes as a little challenge I set myself, so not a lot of thought was put into the structure of this poem. I'm not incredibly confident in my writing yet, so I feel more comfortable sharing the poems that I haven't poured my soul into. None the less I was happy with the way this one turned out. I'm content that it portrays the message I was going for, but I'm more interested to see how other people interpret it. I also welcome any constructive criticism, as I'm still trying to find and develop my writing style, so any pointers are a godsend.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 34
Offline)
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