The Plow Man Poem by James McLain

James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

The Plow Man



Night time has come and I am going out against.
Prohibition of the sounds death is before the knell
of the currants running past today.

Slow burning is the fire
the wind I hear the roaring crowd.
That the method of becoming comes before.

Heavily to her I return obtaining.
Upon the glassy plain and today her plowman,
and the leafy kiss is darkness to my world.

Now shining faintly I view new vision,
and all air which in silence the reigns I've grasp.
That lonely monotone if you exclude that where,
and drowsy inklings alleviates the distant cold.

Monday, October 14, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: lonely,song
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By
Close
Error Success