Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2015
This holy wine, this blood of mine,
this glass I fill,
still
sometimes
I wish the wine and glass were gone
smashed beyond repair,
and the pulses cease
no voices,
peace.

Release that thought and exhale, breathe
deep and keep the faith.
John Edward Smallshaw
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)   
265
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems