Carrion eaters, of dead and rotting flesh, who pick the bones so clean.
Vultures of the air, whom in flight so majestic seem.
Who purge from sight the ugliness of deaths unsightly gore.
And I alone into the heavens, as these mighty birds do soar.
Or is it I and I alone, to whom your beauty hath been seen?
Oh carrion eater, will you pick my bone to clean?
Or have others stared in deaths repose and wondered as you soar
Whos fate is worse, the carrion eaters or the dead and rotting gore
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Carrion by james howard )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Nothing to my sleep!, Gedion Onyango
- 154. The Path Of Life, John Westlake
- OUR FALLEN LEAVES اوراقنا المتساقطة, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Language, Our Friend, Sandra Feldman
- there's a pretty plum sky and then there.., Mandolyn ...
- Revealed, John Onyeme
- Groom is the Cadaver, Pintu Mahakul
- Sleep deprived, Matthew Holloway
- More Than Just Memories, David Whalen
- Legacy, Matthew Holloway