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.
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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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.