Poem -

Strange Questions Are Poetry Now

author
August Arps
Strange Questions Are Poetry Now

how can I control the weather with a withering stare?
with an artless glare into a tomb of unyielding ire?
the type of gyre a rainbow would torment with flare-
combing over the blindspot of our every desire?

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Views: 
535
Rating:
Total votes: 2
Poetry Genre: 
Freestyle Melodrama Prose
Topic: 
The Soul
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Nine Eleven's pictureNine Eleven1005 years ago

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Nine Eleven's pictureNine Eleven 5 years ago

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