The day they died

My imagination was there;

Within the walls. 

The  information billowed 

like a toxic plume

The weary of hart

gasping for untruths 

The strong,bracing;

For the deluge

Bated breaths, silence 

Cut through the hum. 

Screams;

Within the walls,living

They are not immortal. 

Under the sediment 

Life falls silent

My imagination walks

Ladened, in history’s guilt. 

🌷 (2)

◄ JIG

Grim Faces ►

Comments

DESMOND CHILDS

Sun 1st Oct 2017 17:03

Hi Cynthia,thanks for your comment on my poem. I have read your poem today and agree there is a similarity of thought in both poems.

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sun 1st Oct 2017 13:35

I think this is excellent, a fine perspective well written. I hadn't seen it before today. If you care to, you might read my posting of today, Sunday. I cannot believe the similarity of thought.

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