3 august 2021
There Was No Prelude
Clubfoot.
A poet's dilemma.
You cannot think straight,
cannot walk straight―
unaided.
In grimaced face, one
eye patched, there stood a deliverer
with raised hands―
bringing down the empire of
a baby king.
You walk out of the painting
mutely. The king was
ready to be laid down for the
poisoning effect.
Was there anybody to
explain that why the dynasty
falls one day and the
poet wins the broken fort?
24 february 2025
wiesiek
24 february 2025
absynt
24 february 2025
ajw
24 february 2025
ajw
23 february 2025
Jaga
23 february 2025
absynt
23 february 2025
ajw
23 february 2025
Jaga
22 february 2025
Marek Gajowniczek
22 february 2025
Eva T.