Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2015
On a turtle's shell I awoke.
Apart the land from which we broke.

I'd miss my home if I knew.
There wasn't better beyond this blue.

Alone I'm not, our lot is few.
We'd pull up land to replace the dew.

Which collected on its back
The lowest creature formed a pact

Bringing soil from the murk
For others waiting on his work
Based on Oral tales of the Algonquin First People
Benjamin
Written by
Benjamin
336
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems