Grave Poem by Ijanric Howe
Grave
Rating: ★5.0
A living hand gave wave,
Long left growing under
For rain to slowly plunder:
A wart upon the grave.
Against the sky the grave withstood
The spiteful rain, a stony hood
That only could,
Stifle up the rifle
And stop the endless rain
Enough to feed the shoots
Plumbed to the roots
Of rotten corpses lain.
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4/25/2024 5:41:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I have enjoyed reading many of your new poems. You have an unique voice and your use of tone and diction certainly gets the message across. Keep writing.