Gold Ring Poem by Martin Swords

Martin Swords

Tiglin, Wicklow, Ireland

Gold Ring

Rating: 5.0


The count was ten
And still he did not move
He lay beaten, badly, cold
Giving his life in the square ring
to win a purse of gold.

The count was ten
It could have been ten thousand
All that he ever had, was spent.






May 2004
Martin Swords

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Jasmin Whyte 03 February 2009

lovely, layered poem. Isn't it so often so?

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Martin Swords

Tiglin, Wicklow, Ireland
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