The season now upon us
Breathes out darkness, sucks in light
And the words that swathe the policies
Encompass us in night.
For Truth is held in prison
And is grieving for her soul,
While liars drum a roll.
The snappy phrase, evasion
And the blaring trumpet's sound
Distract us while she's buried
Truth's bones will not be found.
"Progress", "change", "a bright new day, "
And the empty race was run
The seasons run their courses -
The Earth spins round the sun.
The dying stars are riven
Their dust will scatter and burn
A golden dawn was promised
But night will soon return.
28th May 2012
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Comments about this poem (Election by Don Pearson )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
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- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Alone, Edgar Allan Poe
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
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