deepundergroundpoetry.com
He would call it his own
Two men sit and drink
perched upon a mountain
and while they drink
one says to the other
I have things now
that rest beside me
when I sleep at times
corners peek out from bedding
that feel like comfort to my ribs
a pebble stolen from the shore
is smooth when seen through tired eyes
and a blanket more holes than warmth
I have these things now
and they are a part of me
tearful rivers of brotherly fathers
flow down opposing slopes
and the other man asks
but what if the house
where these things lives
burns to the ground
and the wind runs wild
through the ashes?
perched upon a mountain
and while they drink
one says to the other
I have things now
that rest beside me
when I sleep at times
corners peek out from bedding
that feel like comfort to my ribs
a pebble stolen from the shore
is smooth when seen through tired eyes
and a blanket more holes than warmth
I have these things now
and they are a part of me
tearful rivers of brotherly fathers
flow down opposing slopes
and the other man asks
but what if the house
where these things lives
burns to the ground
and the wind runs wild
through the ashes?
Published 1st May 2014
| Edited 2nd May 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
1st May 2014 2:52am
1st May 2014 7:17pm
Some of the old style Dys is peeking through, but not much. I like it, it reads like a Buddha tale.
What if, indeed...
What if, indeed...
10th May 2014 3:41am
Lol if you mean all the little errors, I noticed those too.. If a little late. Oh well, consistency is boring right? Thank you for stopping by and for the feedback, it's always appreciated :)
11th May 2014 7:39pm