He ponders ..His Fate!A Poem by andrew mitchell
A man of stone sits alone
Re-sculptured with time; With head on hand, on knee He ponders, his fate...his time. Dressed in green, lichen moss Streaked with white: a bird's delight Scorched by sun, covered in dust He ponders ... his fate. Stripped by weather, ravaged by age Crushed is he, with passages of time. Relentless pressures bestowed on shoulders; A test of mind, a smile no longer viewed. A slab of stone chipped away Slowly vandalised by Mother Earth, home to lichen green. Fragmented, cracked showing age. No longer glorious grey Man of stone sits alone Head in hand, on knee He ponders.. his fate Facing life's decay. From stones decay A life was had.. now Viewed in horror Looked on in disgust He sits and waits...... With a gleam in her eye Mother Earth chips away The smoothness of his skin; "til a soul no more remains. Just dust, dirt, rubble To be reclaimed by...... He knows... his fate, His time with Mother.
© 2015 andrew mitchellReviews
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Added on May 18, 2015Last Updated on May 18, 2015 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..Writing
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