George Bab.saay Jr.
Walk straight, limp heart and heavy head
En route to ridicule road,
Quiet shrieks surround the bend.
Faces scarred, blaze miles ahead
as do red ears redder than red.
Play dead on grass,
On stone, on asphalt wrecked;
Or bake the grass; and stare at stones instead.
Within that stretch,
while others bleed
and sell their seed
somewhere (who knows?) .
Still, the weeds spread silent, mindless
under hundred heavy feet.
One way, the other, or;
we all die, and will,
and walk and laugh and weep
and play dead no more.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Monday by George Bab.saay Jr. )
- Memories, anthony john cerrito, sr.
- The Sea, Somasekar Sivaprakash
- Gods Revenge, Tango Tango
- 'Valerie', Katherine Nordhaus
- 'Charlie Girl', Katherine Nordhaus
- Madrigal Dedicated To An Angel., Marcondes Pereira
- Halloween, lee fones
- Canned thoughts, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Aunt Giovanna, at 80, Gary Corseri
- For To be An Indian English Poet, You St.., Bijay Kant Dubey
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