flora (Remove filter)
Bloom
in rivers of right they spawn
eggs already torn and bent
that grow deprived of dawn
to salve and heal their rent
and battered by a rusty flail
to a state not unlike trance
a polka spinning them pale
to a hapless agony of dance
chalking symbols onto slate
a scratch makes evil mute,
silent observances of hate
doomed flora lacking root
sometimes they...
Friday 11th June 2021 2:49 pm
Recent Comments
LEON STOLGARD on To Heaven Or To Hell …
4 hours ago
LEON STOLGARD on Go green NOW and stay alive !!
4 hours ago
JOHN F B TUCKER on THE STERILISED HOTEL
4 hours ago
LEON STOLGARD on Tarnishment
4 hours ago
Ray Miller on Watching Glastonbury On The TV
8 hours ago
David RL Moore on What of Courage?
11 hours ago
Martin Elder on Go green NOW and stay alive !!
14 hours ago
Martin Elder on THE STERILISED HOTEL
14 hours ago
Jon on Waves
1 day ago
Tom Doolan on Brand New Heart ❤️
1 day ago