Bad Poem by Morgan Michaels

Bad



'Steady as she goes....'
Rilke said 'Ich lobe...'
so we must, I suppose;

but sometimes- sometimes,
it's just too much. Too much
thorn, not enough rose,

and, things, God knows,
get red and rough
as Churchill's nose.

Saturday, March 14, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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