Clay Dubberly Poems

I roam the desolate wastelands of earth alone

A forlorn man,
Scarred with emptiness
...

The moon;
So gloom in its glowing,
It shines, as an effervescent sign,
To all those with ears to hear;
...

The blue bird is humming
Though the sap of the sycamore bled
From one end of town to the other
Curled like a garden snake
...

The babies bones burn
As the trunk of the tree
Collapses in a haze
Of wheat, molasses, and mold,
...

The setting of a thousand suns,
The wrath of a thousand kings;
The chant of a thousand cherubs,
The words by which we bleed,
...

A harper's harp,
played from atop,
The mount, of a golden-white steed,
Signals the start-a beginning-a part,
...

It is dawn; the dreary month of May,
I rove the shore of a weary bay;
In dread and terror (as one might say) ,
The spring of God fades away,
...

I quietly mourn on this woeful day,
For a sole year ago, in the balmy month of May,
I espoused a kindhearted woman, by the name, Laffeye.
A fine young damsel she was; my Elizabeth Laffeye
...

A mystical field;
Bedight, benign,
Rimmed with golden roses;
Surreal, divine,
...

I clasp grains of ashen sand,
My eyes, gazing upon windswept lands.
I walk, scaling the golden shore.
My body-lifeless-descends through the floor.
...