GALLOWS

GALLOWS

 

Wet dawn morning rain dripping on sombre scene

low clouds distilling all colour to grey.

No warmth or hope or peace of mind.

Count down approaches creeping death

as workers test the gallow’s string, new white rope up,

haul heavy sacks of grain to test it – dead weight.

In his cell a condemned man is brought,

he didn’t sleep much. His last day on earth,

wheels of justice grinding inexorably onwards.

His crime was carried out, his thoughts don’t matter

only what will result, eventual outcome.

A crowd gathers in bad weather, worth the rain

to see a ruffian die for his sins.

In ones and twos adding to a dozen to a hundred they wait.

Here he is, led by the law, hands bound, free in his own eyes.

Up the ladder to the platform, hangman places the noose

around his long exposed neck. Offer of a blindfold

is accepted, no last words. A minute wait, then drop!

Trap door opens, man falls down, rope becomes taught,

neck is snapped, life becomes death, justice is done—

crimes repaid tenfold.

What would the victims think if they could view this?

 

 

 

 

crimegallowshangingjustice donepublic eventpunishment

◄ U.F.O.

poems from my new book... ►

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