#archeology - Hello Poetry

Around time scarred columns, Sun bleached waves swell. No songs or poems Can say What these weathered walls tell.

0

Jun 22, 2020

Jun 22, 2020 at 7:53 AM UTC

Michael_literaryaccount

Ruin

Around time scarred columns, Sun bleached waves swell. No songs or poems Can say What these weathered walls tell.

5

i stand here with a hole in my chest. someone unearthed the key and dug up all the rest, their grimy hands scratching and scraping into the dark. Unsure of what they'll find, but they wouldn't mind leaving the tomb with a few antiques, maybe one or two. i wish they bagged my soul with them. it's rusting itself blue.

0

Aug 9, 2016

Aug 9, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC

nokomisadonis

treasure pool

i stand here with a hole in my chest. someone unearthed the key and dug up all the rest, their grimy hands scratching and scraping into the dark. Unsure of what they'll find, but they wouldn't mind leaving the tomb with a few antiques, maybe one or two. i wish they bagged my soul with them. it's rusting itself blue.

7

If my skillet's unearthed Some long time on By somethings human, They'd need a rune To reveal the smells Of Sunday breakfast, The sizzles and grizzles Of that relic. It won't explain What's to blame, From first fire, To my frying pan.

0

Mar 26, 2015

Mar 26, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC

francie-lynch

My Frying Pan

If my skillet's unearthed Some long time on By somethings human, They'd need a rune To reveal the smells Of Sunday breakfast, The sizzles and grizzles Of that relic. It won't explain What's to blame, From first fire, To my frying pan.

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