Ballerina With Fins
Sweet Earth - Poem by Ballerina With Fins
See the little piggies
submerged in the black drowning Mud of
our time. See them
they are dying a sweet
death of asphyxiation, Mud being the mellow
honey slowly choking them with love
So smother yourselves with the sweet
Soil of the Earth my darlings;
for we must conjoin
with our beginnings. We were
born with the mud, we must
die with it. But before that,
we must Live with it. Mud is us. We are Mud.
We were born out of the Sweet Earth
which gives yet takes
whenever it pleases.
We are part of this Earth like the Sludge that covers
little piggies, the Soil that infiltrates their lungs,
so let us dig a sweet grave for ourselves
in the forgiving Earth that created us.
Comments about Sweet Earth by Ballerina With Fins
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You