Black

What rough beast
this way comes
to breathe in love
and spew such hate.

To crush out life
with callous heel
as though it were
but cast out leavings

of forgotten dreams
that held no sway
over man or woman
and all they loved.

This bitter thorn
does prick the heart.
A fatal wound;
a poison pill

on tongues that sang
of bright new days,
now to choke
on life’s last blood.

Black clouds have now
consumed the sun
and past
has gone away.

© 2013 Stephen Boothe

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About txyogi

Fifty plus year old Network engineer, father, grandfather, webmaster, graphic designer, guitar/bass player, yogi from Texas. View all posts by txyogi

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