The fairy tales are cowed
when fallen from the crowd
mucked upon the milieu of hunger
as if their gods are deaf and deaden either.
The patterns of living flicking down deep
Seem to have gone to the dust distorted
A dismal moment as I peeved back
Deflecting Into their bitten tones
Still a violence against the time dishonored
Reasoned and resourced yet dismayed
The fossils in its dead grave flinting the fire
As if quietly meditating and submerged
As they have never been quivered as before
the time fallen from the crowd yet unscathed
ridden by the rain as demurred beyond the vale
As if the fairy tale of raved up undertones
heard in nursery days yet unraveled
bleating and rasping within out of aspiration
dislodged unassumingly in totality
Hickory mixed up clock Criminality is not allowed and the crowd dislodged the cow The moo moos bleated The fossils rasped The rain flinted fire and I did laugh! ! ! One Peace at a Time..xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is an excellent piece, Doc..only you can do justice with this..I cannot do this, either.Very well penned, each lines pierces through my mind and soul, that i want to read this again and again..thank you for this wonderful sharing of your talent..I salute you.. love and hugs, Meggie