Democracy of America
Democracy,....
When we cease
To be a democracy
By extension,
We cease to be a dream
Muffled in the seeds
Of division and muddled
In abstention in acumination
------
Only to wimpier without a sound
Which echoes to the name of a place?
Where the “Eagles” doth’ bound
And that is a place called “America”
Gary Fields
Poet, Author
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.