Stan Petrovich

(10/27/1950 / Fort Riley, KS)

Like a Wasteland


Nature is the cruelest thing,
Bringing dead flowers to a cemetary,
And sneezing as a ghost passes through.
I spent the night reading Keats
And have no one to share him with.

Loneliness is the hardest thing to stive for;
When I get there I cry with happiness
And careen with fear.

Submitted: Wednesday, May 08, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, September 17, 2013

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  • Gajanan Mishra (5/8/2013 6:25:00 AM)

    I like this poem, I feel nature as cruelest. thanks.
    I invite you to read my poems and comment. (Report) Reply

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