Seer Garth


Mud - Poem by Seer Garth

Blood is churning ever slow,
My impotent moan is growing tall.
Yet, lights and sound are deeply vibrant
In the clear mist of London air;
I would say I'm blessed with life
If not the heavy ball of mud inside
That grew from spores of this dirty light.

Insane, death is weaved throughout.
Must I fade inside and out?


Comments about Mud by Seer Garth

  • Rookie - 347 Points David Wood (5/9/2013 7:56:00 AM)

    A delightful poem about lifes struggle. Keep wtiting. (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 35,597 Points Gajanan Mishra (5/9/2013 7:14:00 AM)

    death is weaved throughout. good one.
    I invite you to read my poems and comment. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »



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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 9, 2013

Poem Edited: Tuesday, September 17, 2013


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