In Dispraise of Poetry

Guilty as charged they passed on the verdict
As the prisoner who had been accused of an atrocity, stood before the jury.
It comprised of not more than three panel of judges.
The eldest judge with white curly hair that rested upon his shoulders.
The prisoner, Innocent as the first born sons of Egypt on a merciless night; He slept in anguish of his own demise.
Dreamily and sadly 
He murmured, "comfort is a precipice, a shadow that covers off the light from our eyes;"
However, his punishment was to grow in his garden, a white rose for each time he wrote a poem.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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Lawless Avatar
December 1, 2019 at 9:56 AM
I had to read this three times to bathe in its simple complexity...nicely done
Mtonga Avatar
December 1, 2019 at 11:42 AM
Thanks a thousand times....
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