Epitaph Poem by Marck Riggins
Epitaph
Wailing howl of this world's fate
An epitaph that punctuates
The time is short, the hour late
Fig tree's bud is blooming
Stand fast in eye of storms
Peace prevails, unalarmed
Still the madness goes unchecked
Our own destruction looming
The world in this tumult raves
Gathering front of white-capped waves...
Coal-black sky of clouds that rage
From thunderclaps is booming
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/19/2024 7:30:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
