The Drowning Man
As I look pitifully at the expression of the drowning man;
Picturing how he works his way,
Trying his capability; pleading Nature for his life back.
As the going gets helpless,
The drowning man makes scratches at the bank of the rushing brook;
Gathering a sum of clay tightly in his fist;
Death has his hands on him,
Moving alongside him, through the mindless brook;
Bearing him without mercy; stealing from humanity so helpless.
Copyright © Clay More | 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. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment