Treasure Island

George Bab.saay Jr.


Monday


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
sophistication grows,
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.

Submitted: Wednesday, September 04, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 04, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poet's Notes about The Poem

george TB Jr.
(june 10,2013)

Comments about this poem (Monday by George Bab.saay Jr. )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 2 comments »

PoemHunter.com Updates

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the better soul, that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;

Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

 

Trending Poems

  1. 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
  2. Invictus, William Ernest Henley
  3. Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
  4. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  5. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  6. Alone, Edgar Allan Poe
  7. Farewell, Anne Brontë
  8. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  9. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  10. Footsteps of Angels, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]