Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2016
Man made his house by rolling dirt—
Rock that was flung up from the earth.
Man then planted, course, grainy seeds
After nature made trees, fruits, and bees.
Man soon built fortresses, folds containing,
The weathers grew angry, gathering, raining,
So he fashioned bold cities built upon strands
And great ships laden with spoils command.
The oceans were quarry and the skies gave in,
The plains dried up, all animals were thinned.
And then— man imagined, if only the stars,
With nothing left, must we settle on mars?
Seán Mac Falls
Written by
Seán Mac Falls  Éire
(Éire)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems