Ripe-(Cold Cash) Poem by J. Edward Armstrong

Ripe-(Cold Cash)



A crime without victims, no pain would befall
Ripe for the taking, by those with such gaul

No voices to cry out, an alarm never cast
Peace not eternal, rest that won't last

Yet vengeance will triumph, be it mighty or meek
The fire of truth burns, for those who don't speak

Ablaze in the wicked, a chard blackened soul
Is all that remains, and will forever be cold

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Matt Soriano 13 December 2007

just grate. 4 grate lines. from a grate poet. 'write on'

0 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
J. Edward Armstrong

J. Edward Armstrong

Chincoteague Island, Va.
Close
Error Success