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Plague

beak of the plague mask lest I smell your rotting bodies strewn I smell your crosses daub your doors I smell your corpses pile your carts I smell your fires flame your dead I smell you earth and weep for you cried moon

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Sara Etgen-Baker

Date: 4/3/2024 4:12:00 PM

I didn't look at the title before reading your poem but quickly realized your poem was about the bubonic plague. It was descriptive in that you used all the senses. Nicely done.

Tom Woody

Date: 4/3/2024 6:01:00 AM

"Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!"

Clive Culverhouse
Date: 4/3/2024 7:00:00 AM

Quite! That is a nursery rhyme from the plague, you're right, thanks for reading Tom

Kim Rodrigues

Date: 4/3/2024 5:30:00 AM

the moon sees all the horrible things done at night or revealed under its glow. horror of horrors… well depicted

Clive Culverhouse
Date: 4/3/2024 6:58:00 AM

Thanks Kim and thanks for reading