discord ants

 

Such a strange cold land,

This living thing,

This sour sweet

And mournful fling


Once viewed through

Smoky prism rose,

Misled were we,

With much to lose


If looks can kill,

What then of words?

Those silent smiling

Blood-thirsty birds


They swoop around

Inside the head,

With graceful pause,

And measured dread


Awaiting another

Chance encounter,

A lonesome heart,

Led to the slaughter

 

…while playing always the malcontent


In ringing tones so dissonant,


The minds eye no longer listens…

 

copyright r.b.franklin 15/06/06

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s