THE WINGLESS.A Poem by Terry CollettA DANTE LIKE SCENE OF HELLWe are wingless are silent have blood on our hands and in our heads and hearts, once we had wings and a voice but spoke of those things not the real and we had our fill loved and sexed and more still, angeli caduti angeli senza ali, once we had it all and scant cared for others outside our state of mien or race or tribe or creed and watched the starving as we ate our feed, where the light? whose voices are these? we hug ourselves wingless in our darkness hopeless in our pride, once our wings spread wide and our youth and wisdom seemed wise now there is an echoing call and blood shot eyes. © 2016 Terry Collett |
AuthorTerry CollettUnited KingdomAboutTerry Collett has been writing since 1971 and published on and off since 1972. He has written poems, plays, and short stories. He is married with eight children and eight grandchildren. on January 27t.. more..Writing
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