PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Lamenting, what not to― 
think. Condemned to burn 
the words daily. 

The dwindling values tear open 
the sit-ins of faith. I was 
not ready to become a stone. 

A busy vessel sends daily, the 
blood to remote memories. 
I look askance at the falling peaks. 

A dog star following the 
heels of master with blinders. No 
straight vision. Time was the 
mystery of the clock. 

The moon is nowhere 
in sight. I was starving 
for a cardinal pain.