Trevor McLeod

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The Dead Poem
Where the poet died
while writing what,
His hand gone by
for what he thought
To the baby it's mush
For an adult it's apple sauce
But to God - It's an apple
Poverty Soup
Poverty is a soup.
It's the orange cubed carrot you hate.
And the oily broth you'll skim.
It's the hunger for the wait.
Green Tongues
Green Trees to calm our nerves.
Fresh Air to sooth our lungs.
Dampness to cool our heads
and Comfort to fuel our tongues.
The Heart Played For A Song
I want to put you all to work
and make you feel as needed.
To make the world a better place
and feel like I've succeeded.


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5/11/2021 9:45:12 AM #