Get Your Premium Membership

The Gun

Innocent. silently the blacksmith works trying to make a living. Harmless. The finished product; the cute cold black metal rod. Viscious. The gun swallows poisonous pellets. Violent. It roars. It spits fire. It spits death...

Copyright © | Year Posted 2008




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Shattered Sighs