I Have Written.
I have written
Of pretty pictures from sky,
of the axe as it fell, and the look in their eye,
of the head on the block,
and French revolution,
of inmates running their French institution.
I’ve written of sweat that falls on the brow,
of gunners and lovers to tell them somehow.
I’ve written of the Bojeemy tree,
how I slept under it, and what happened to me.
I have written of trains, fast in the night,
and the smell of the pine if you get it just rite.
I’ve written to friends, most of them dead,
and still to those friends now in my head.
I’ve written of madness,
of fairy tales and myth,
to the wide eyed innocence of those I was with,
of voyage, adventure ,and tragic allure,
of China corrupt and Mandarin pure.
Of battles and journey , such things I dare mention, compelled to now tell
that I have your attention.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.