There stood Stanly, staring down.
Stopping, sounding,
Heartbeat pounding.
How long will it take to drown?
Bubbles troubling,
Doubt is doubling.
Life abound with mounds of sound.
Lost and tossed, and never found.
Gowned and bound, put underground.
That’s the future he has found.
Grooming gloomy groveling knaves,
Gathering gravely for their graves,
Pointless prayer never saves.
But there’s peace beneath the waves.
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1 comment:
When your dead and famous, students will have so much fun analyzing your work, as if it was intentional.
I'll be here for the poetry ...
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