Author: Unknown
Larne’s Life
This is the way she was,Loch Larne,
Prolifically teemed with fish and vegetation,
The air about her abundantly sweet.
Bushes and willows animated her wonder,
For friendly fishermen to laze around her.
The skies and trees were full.
No one comes to see her anymore,
The way she is now.
Larne lies suffering,
Abandoned,
Raped by filth.
Her wound’s
Incurable,
Squalid,
Smelling.
Willows weep.
Skies and trees lie barren.
A hush of Death
Fills the air.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2009
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Author: Unknown
The seven year old boy wears his Sunday best this day.
His porcelain face is flawless,
and his complexion rosy- a work of art.
His neatly pressed clothes perfectly fit,
and adorn him handsomely.
Yet, the mannequin body is inanimate,
as it rests in a small grey casket.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2009
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puppypaws2 Poetry (2)