Daily Poem Trust



Sharp, in cold sea, whiskers of white, roam the horizon,

Bleed the parting skies with orange tears

Ruffle the steady calm with torrents and currents

Rumbling below the cared for pretence

Slipped on through troubles, pressed in garlands of flowers

Crushed in petals of significance

Smoothed in beats of withered pumps

Bled free of poison to arch the canopy cover

Speared by fish as shallow waters hold plenty

Farmed for fact finding

Barren land



November 19th

Patrick Turner-Lee Copyright 2014

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