| |
He comes unknown and heard and stands there
Breathes there hardly and hands grip
Flesh and walking stick. Skips over mounds
To land flat footed in a bowl of roses.
Flicks at the crazy gravestones
Spitting loud desires wood crosses for himself:
Heaves them up with laughter to hang them,
Dangling on the atheist's fig tree.
Handsprings through the open door,
Signs with a swastika on the visitors' book
And goes through the shut iron gate
With a pansy in his buttonhole.
Bernard Gutteridge
Read poems about / on: crazy, laughter, tree, rose
|
|
User Rating: |
|
8.0
/10
(1 votes) |
|
|
|
Free
Poetry E-Book:
E-mail this poem to e friend