Poetry: Dots On A Timeline

A thousand revolts stuck in history
know and unknown alike.
Blood spilt to avoid our own injury,
To keep our minds childlike.

I could be a sweet sparrow
traverse the endless blue,
never have I felt the cloud’s arrows,
seen an owl or thanked a horseshoe.

Instead I’ll wander through an endless wood,
in search of past Gods, beasts and men,
feel guilt in not accepting my freedom
only to realise I’m stuck in a corporate den.

About the Author

Posted by

literature, art and culture

Categories:

poetry

Add a Response

Your name, email address, and comment are required. We will not publish your email.

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

The following HTML tags can be used in the comment field: <a href="" title="" rel=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <pre> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

%d bloggers like this: