Explore Poems GO!

White Crane

Rating: 4.8

I don't need to know any more about death
from the Japanese beetles
infesting the roses and plum
no matter what my neighbor sprays
in orange rubber gloves.
You can almost watch them writhe and wither,
pale and fall like party napkins
blown from a table just as light fades,
and the friends,
as often happens when light fades,

talk of something painful, glacial, pericardial,
Read More

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
James Mclain 06 December 2008

This is true poetry....knowing whats true not from others.

1 0 Reply