Sunday, January 26, 2014

Crying Souls

Poetry of the Mind

Every so often, I plan to post some poetry I wrote; as is often the case, it is a work in progress and thus is never right, never complete, never finished.

Crying Souls
Crying souls stripped of sex
laid upon a white
linen cloth
boasting no more
against the branches

Nature calls her own

Evening melody plays
amidst white lights
from antiquity
bathing the blackened birches
in a funeral march

Another day begins
in Elysium

Perry J. Greenbaum; June 17, 1995

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