July 5, 2025
For the contest, "Gate of Gates" by Constance La France
Built in the middle of Nowhere, A gate of turquoise, very rare, A sculptor carved a figurehead, The gate was built to guard the dead. It's best to come on full-moon night, for the dead don't care for sunlight. GHOSTLY music is often heard, And one unidentified word. It's said, on a September date, GROANING is heard near the big gate. GRIEF-STRICKEN singing to the crowd? Even here, I think not allowed. Perhaps, in that spot you call GRAVE, Was, all along, a gateman's slave. Although GOSSAMER clouds float by, A GODFORSAKEN place to die!
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.