The Citizen's Poetry

A Full Life of Narrow StreetsTitanic Poetry Book

Beneath the broad columns of Herculean Pillar,

Weeps the springtime feather dance

Of freezing frothing blanket.

He lies on Irving’s rocks across the Henry,

Painting words of Freedom’s March across a furrowed brow,

Till tiredness creeps it’s feet on lonely eyes,

Counting mountains

As they frown down from above.

On the first crack of the distant Bell

A teary head raises from a bloody pillow,

And sings out the count, to defiant beats.

Flakes drift softly round a faraway moon,

As drizzle melts the lines of morning strollers,

With the hoofs their companions, embossed upon the heather.

His eyes close as he settles to dreams of futures possible,

Picturing rows of steaming turrets, sharpened blades

And crumbling fear, as they draw known faces on fancy paper.

He hears whispered talk of sagging brows and lobbing smiles,

Scribbling and Scripting our morning…

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