A little blind boy chained to paving block
his grey, mute mouth matching his hollow mind.
Dour face down-turned to cold dead digits locked
around red begging box: "Please help the blind."
Saw a certain "tragic" charity box on the way to work today, and it ticked me off a little. I find word stresses hard to figure out, so it'd be really nice to know if I got the iambic pentameter right with this.
YOU ARE READING
Second Thoughts
PoetryCollection of random poems I think of from time to time. Thought it might be better to collect them into one, rather than having lots of separate files. No particular theme, and the poems may or may not be completed.
