Dave SmithWhite

(270552 / Sydney)

The Keep

They were not a civilized race:
Our ancestors, who made this place.
Greed and avarice informed their ways;
In pursuit of lucre, they spent their days.
They walked like gods, but fell from grace.
And when, for a time, the earth became the sun,
And lit a distant Martian night
With little fires, and a new dull light;
When some by birth and some by right,
And some of lesser worth or might
Scuttled like voles to the huddling spot:
These very caverns, cut of rude basalt,
These holes, this pit, this yawning vault,
Carved with haste and crudely wrought
From corporate waste of cheap report,
Became a keep of last redoubt;
Wherein those in, keep others out.
And bargain with the sin of Faust,
Our haven from a holocaust!

Submitted: Monday, March 25, 2013
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Keep by Dave SmithWhite )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Double Standards, Terry Dawson
  2. Goodbye, Rockford, Michael Shutt
  3. First Memory of Urinals, Roger A. Rose
  4. Time heals, salma. torrez
  5. A cowardly disguise, Cheryl Butler
  6. Are Farm Animals Like Humans? ……. [spe.., Bri Edwards
  7. Vows Broken, The Zentire World Missed L.., Monk E. Biz
  8. ONE MORE TIME, Romeo Della Valle
  9. Why Must You Own Me?, Monk E. Biz
  10. Crescent Cradle, Saiom Shriver

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

[Hata Bildir]