Tears of Dying Men
In tears of dying men a story:
Mostly of fears for unsafe children;
Clear witnessing of denied glory:
Son’s fragile fingers in hot cauldron
If that is scenic, also gory
“Please God, my child by Brook Kidron.”
Very bitter a ripe farewell,
Their offspring’s they see drown in well
Their closing eyes sure things won’t be well
“Even for the one named Honeywell
I’d said to his bank account swell.”
No ghost has man saved from sent cell:
Can he that bring about with Snell?
With death man no more an albatross,
The weakest carrier of other’s cross;
Death is what it’d been: a tragic loss:
Problems that take over a great gross!
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.
