Poemhunters Poem by Max Reif
Poemhunters
Like beggars poring
through a Calcutta landfill
we peruse the Poems’ column
looking for any glint of gold,
any contraption that works,
to carry off in our minds
while treasures buried
amid the sheer volume
go forever unrecognized
and the gulls of sarcasm
wheel screeching overhead,
ready to pounce.
Well said, Max. You've really captured the essence of this place in this one.
I really like this, Max, but I don't think the title fits the images. Raynette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 1:59:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I realize that PH is a garbage heap, but it is when we find that one glint of gold that it makes it worth paying the phone bill every month!