Tag: Poetry

Stranded in the garden, these are the down-trodden, all forgottenthere’s no pardon, to the migrant

Swallows fly lowCool morning mistSun lights upWarm brown earthA sea of white, wispy cottonWaves of

For long have I wandered,in search of a place I can call my ownFor a

Outside, the Tempest looms, forever growing;With loud ominous Thunder crashing,Like peals from a thousand bells,

The mirror, the mirror, I stood before.Clash of light and shadow, an image it bore.Of

for i am a drifter,an aimless wanderer, a rudderless boat,a sculler who lost his oars