Poppies Had the Color of Blood
By the time he reached the village
The bells of the old church
Were beating like a heart
In a sick chest
He had the same old obsessions
That a wise philosopher
Used to call extreme ideas
About angels with human faces
God sent to save humanity
All alone
He found himself in the arms of the wind
When she took her last breath
All the sad eyes of heavens
Begun to mourn
On the field near the bridge
Poppies had the color of blood
Like the painflowers
Crowns of sadness
Over a cross
Copyright © Berinde Ovidiu-Claudiu | Year Posted 2013
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