Fodder Poem by Saul McCandless
Fodder
Foiled at the last hurdle
I am with young and blood stained embryo
To have culled what mistaken glore
To what extremes must we go?
Would it have been too much to ask
Given clues to heel the past
Cheese upon my younglings grave
These promises, not true enough to last
And in my slumber phase
I sit and reminisce
Of when I had the tools and grit
To look away and not to have missed.
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...
4/27/2024 12:24:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
