Gone

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Gone

Today it’s official.
The icemen are all dead.
Tongs  are  gone the way of all tongs.
Picks  are rusted away.
No one throws a burlap rag on his shoulder
To haul dripping translucent blocks up stairs.
No one grunts as fresh-cut ice rattles in the bin.


No one.

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To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

ARCHIE’s Poems (5)

Title Comments
Title Comments
The Nature of Information 0
Computer Composition 0
Gone 0
Budding 1
Writer's Block 3