By Richard H. Fay
Floating,
Drifting,
Dreaming
Of legs
And land.
Sighing,
Sobbing,
Missing
A life
Out of reach.
Regretting,
Grieving,
Weeping
Bitter tears
That never can fall.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Poem "Confessions of a Troll"
Inspired by being added to a certain author/editor's "Quit Being Toxic" BlueSky moderation list (which I consider to be a sick...
-
Beneath the feeble glow of a waning moon and a flickering streetlight, Gareth Tuthill stood on the front stoop of Jarvis Speake’s quaint but...
-
While Carius the Uncanny prowled lea and dale in search of monkshood and belladonna for use in various nefarious concoctions, he spied a s... -
On a moonlit autumn eve when wolves howled and hungry beasts prowled, a knock upon Kalensh’s door jarred him out of a contemplative hum that...
No comments:
Post a Comment