Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2015
Orange, crackling tongues flick,
Trying to find something to lick.
To find something to burn,
to find something to turn
into ashes.
Its heat, creating gashes
in the earth,
causing dearth
in this place,
that was once full of grace,
but is now being blazed,
being razed.
A destructive sort of poem.
Zane Stotts
Written by
Zane Stotts  Cherokee, TX
(Cherokee, TX)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems