Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
have you seen his eyes? or did the maggots get them first when his skull sunk into dirt- did the roots latch on and pull? or did his body choose to dive deep and anchor at earth’s feet- was he wearing a crown? or was his head scalped and dry leaving no room for pride- did they celebrate when his body was found? everyone blames the one who seeks the skies but forget they were born belowdecks- I love to see children in session. their lives are in harmonic transfantasia until a conductor calls upon them for duty- did you see which trains they boarded? for they left in a rush and may never remember their heartsong- did anyone catch the conductors name? a traveler near to a tender soul can meld it to his very own- will they remember home? when the aromas return on a springs breeze a new nose will turn away- it won’t be long. a foots journey will return back where it belongs. -for their dreams are drowned out by the whistle, their hearts meander upon riches, and their skulls blow away as what was good is enjoyed by maggots and dirt-
0
Apr 27, 2021
Apr 27, 2021 at 12:25 AM UTC
-hindsight-
have you seen his eyes? or did the maggots get them first when his skull sunk into dirt- did the roots latch on and pull? or did his body choose to dive deep and anchor at earth’s feet- was he wearing a crown? or was his head scalped and dry leaving no room for pride- did they celebrate when his body was found? everyone blames the one who seeks the skies but forget they were born belowdecks- I love to see children in session. their lives are in harmonic transfantasia until a conductor calls upon them for duty- did you see which trains they boarded? for they left in a rush and may never remember their heartsong- did anyone catch the conductors name? a traveler near to a tender soul can meld it to his very own- will they remember home? when the aromas return on a springs breeze a new nose will turn away- it won’t be long. a foots journey will return back where it belongs. -for their dreams are drowned out by the whistle, their hearts meander upon riches, and their skulls blow away as what was good is enjoyed by maggots and dirt-
we-are-stories
Written by
Apr 27, 2021
Apr 27, 2021 at 12:25 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem