unbowed
Through the heath of times
the proverbial owl cries
in the not so distant bent
the echo sticks its dent in the corner.....
the corner we all avoid
like the plague.
I know whose time had been tagged with the sands,
the white sands that blinds from a distance.
we showed our intent
and the chicken must have had a motive!
why did it cross the road?
before dusk,
that was not it's side of the world
Still ... unbowed!
by Mokua Nicholas
YOU ARE READING
road to nowhere.... somewhere...
PoetryIt's an agreed coalition of the willing! Airlines agreeing to feed the "esteemed travellers" with miniature stuff, nations hoarding gas and water to pass a UN resolution at Newyork, Geneva, Nairobi and Vienna. We are all playing "house" .
