The Final Harvest Poem by Kurt Philip Behm
The Final Harvest
Those drunken nights and barroom fights
now seed my fallowed ground
Where women spurned and lovers churned
rule memory's lost and found
Those wasted days and sleepless years
like wine have aged within
Fermenting each unwritten page
—reharvesting my sins
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July,2018)
Friday, July 13, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: memory,sin,writing
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5/3/2024 3:44:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Sins unwritten scattered round rehavesting on my fallowed ground! A strong reflective write! The rhyme pleasing to the ear, the words damning to the soul. I sense a little pirate in ye!