Matthew Pratt

Popular Poems
The Hourglass And The Clepsydra
The Hourglass

At the edge of desert shore
Poured out of an hourglass
To Mount A Scarecrow
It was a sunlit autumn, dying
Foliage was not raked for days,
Bark was gnawn at, soup was tasteless,
Scarecrows had been lumbered away
The Lacerated Diary
Bookends almost adjoining, now
For all that's not of florid inditement,
Are words unwritten sulphurously


John Hancock 20 November 2011
Wow what a powerful poem you have written the imagery is truly heart felt well done
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