wheat (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
Tom Doolan on Shimmering Light
11 minutes ago
Tom Doolan on One Tear at a Time
14 minutes ago
David RL Moore on Tales of the Riverbank
43 minutes ago
Stephen Gospage on Evan Tyler
1 hour ago
Stephen Gospage on The End of His Tether
1 hour ago
Stephen Gospage on One Tear at a Time
1 hour ago
David RL Moore on A Life in the Day
3 hours ago
Tom Doolan on St George’s Day
3 hours ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on St George’s Day
4 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on SPIKE-LIKE
10 hours ago