Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2023
The chants and the cants of the pious
sound like my cats when they're looking for food.

Those pious
might earn points from Jesus
but
they're getting no prizes
from me.

I'm sat here half hidden in shadow
the lamp
burns weak before dawn
I
watch as the sun slowly rises
a feeling
that I've been
reborn
John Edward Smallshaw
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)   
74
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems