
Dead poets hang
from shrunken trees:
ring-a-ring-a-roses,
a pocket full of posies,
singing dead songs,
lyrical flames ignite
numb corpses
Obsolete language from
skull faces, pensive troubadours:
satchels with free verse,
in a universe
devoid of logic
Doomed couplets from
sensual mouths
beckon me to extinction
and coldness โ
welcome,
dead poets say in
scarred voices,
welcome to the
long, strange decay.
(Photo by Frantzou Fleurine on Unsplash)
wickedly eerie… ๐ฎ
Thanks Jay ๐๐
This is terrific ๐๐
Thank you Jennifer ๐
Wow, Nick… that’s intense!
-David
Thanks david!