The Swarm
.
in swirling swarm,
like wayward thoughts,
dark pestilence
from nowhere
suddenly descends
upon verdant farms,
darkening the summer
noonday sky;
hapless, helpless,
villages scramble,
stumble-- fanning
smoky embers of
hastily built bonfires,
stoking torches'
failing flames,
ah, frantic futility!
.
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.
