A Misfired Floral Race. Poem by Michael Gale
A Misfired Floral Race.
Corruptional Pionese sprout leaves of old...
Plants are not like the goose that laid the golden leaf.
Let's be like real and not like make belief.
A magpie hit me on my what'cha'ma-call-it...
Crimson clover will come right on over.
This humidic day has cooked my brain...
After death there will be no pain.
Can we catch the train of life? ...
Or will we be derailed before we may get our Heavenly ticket
punched by that attending conductor?
All aboard!
Can we catch the train of life? ... Or will we be derailed before we may get our Heavenly ticket punched by that attending conductor? All aboard! Never ask us if you have talent Micheal, This is brilliant! Love Duncan X
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/5/2024 7:40:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
WHOA, GOOD CONDUCTOR OF LITERARY TRAVELS....YOUR PASSION FOR THE WRITE IS ENAMORIOUSLY EXHIBITED BY YOUR FIELD OF CREATIVE ENERGY....IMAGERY WELL UTELIZED...SHORT PIECE...LOTS OF PICTURES...GRAT PENNING...........''''''''''''''''FRANK