Seer Garth

Mud - Poem by Seer Garth

Blood is churning ever slow,
My impotent moan is growing tall.
Yet, lights and sound are deeply vibrant
In the clear mist of London air;
I would say I'm blessed with life
If not the heavy ball of mud inside
That grew from spores of this dirty light.

Insane, death is weaved throughout.
Must I fade inside and out?

Topic(s) of this poem: anxiety, death, depression, life and death

Comments about Mud by Seer Garth

  • David Wood (5/9/2013 7:56:00 AM)

    A delightful poem about lifes struggle. Keep wtiting. (Report) Reply

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  • Gajanan Mishra (5/9/2013 7:14:00 AM)

    death is weaved throughout. good one.
    I invite you to read my poems and comment.
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 9, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, July 15, 2016

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