lockdown metaphor (Remove filter)
Freedom At Last
Freedom At Last
Flames raged in the cornfields around it,
Bobbing there in stagnant waters
Tethered to a solid mooring post
With a thick, coarse rope.
Each spark from the furnace
A risk to its rotting timbers
As it took hold and smouldered
And smoked and spread
Oars crossed and laid on its floor
And the spattered markings of crows
Bleaching spots of ...
Monday 4th May 2020 2:24 pm
Recent Comments
Philip Stevens on This Imaginary Life-Part 3 (Nature)
6 hours ago
Nigel Astell on June 2025 Collage Poem: I Watched the Trains Come, I Watched the Trains Go
13 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Poetry Is Pain
18 hours ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
1 day ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
1 day ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
1 day ago