deepundergroundpoetry.com
An Elderly Bird of Tired Wings
The cadence heavenward
From the weariness
Of soul, of body
Quiet calls abound
To no certain direction
How calm a death?
'Neath angry skies
Open to public view
Awaiting rot and flies.
From the weariness
Of soul, of body
Quiet calls abound
To no certain direction
How calm a death?
'Neath angry skies
Open to public view
Awaiting rot and flies.
Published 5th Jul 2017
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Anonymous
6th Jul 2017 3:07am
Wow, this certainly is full of layer upon layer of imagery, nothing like smell of death just before it happens.
You amaze me so much.. each time i come back to visit, its one of the few reasons i login lately.
You amaze me so much.. each time i come back to visit, its one of the few reasons i login lately.
6th Jul 2017 5:34am
Seems a dreary scent to be sure. I'm very glad you enjoyed this, I thank you for the kind words. I'm glad I keep you coming back, I love seeing ya around, my friend. ~anonshadow
