Black Poplar
two flightless birds on a branch
a wood-saw working in my hand
you trying to stop me sawing
hoping to keep us on dry land
below us runs a deep rushing river
if the branch is severed, we drown
I shrug off your efforts to stop me
Though it will bring both of us down
the branch is nearly sundered
I can hear it creak and groan
your hysteria makes me angry
I w...
Thursday 3rd September 2020 10:31 am
Recent Comments
Holden Moncrieff on No-place.
11 minutes ago
John Coopey on SLIMMING WORLD
17 minutes ago
M.C. Newberry on DISPARITY
1 hour ago
kJ Walker on Haiku Parenthood
3 hours ago
kJ Walker on SLIMMING WORLD
3 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on SLIMMING WORLD
6 hours ago
Pete (edbreathe) on Happy daze
7 hours ago
John Coopey on SLIMMING WORLD
7 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Young Man, Dancing
8 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Wednesday Diary
10 hours ago