Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2019
this is now a dump
of shrivel and turn-in
the revenge of late months

the earth is tired
wet as a turned boat

after a battle this ground
is no longer holy
scattered with ribs it is shamed

across the lawn I hear voices
so I touch a found stone
in my pocket, just for me
Written by
Leslie Philibert  63/M/Germany
(63/M/Germany)   
126
   Jules
Please log in to view and add comments on poems