Trend

And it birches on
the eyes of stone
as tortuous trend

the face but gleams
to no abrade nonetheless

to the nail sclerotic on the
napes of greys.

As it thaws shall we all abseil
as heights of dreams have
made for the valleys

ticks of second tumid
upon the head of stone;
tercentenary in threads
of thousand folds

feet of eons have passed
and repassed the crest to the
realm beneath the steep’s edge:
the realm at twilight end.

Our ambition clasp the path with ego
zest.Yet all are fossils
beyond the ceaseless breaths.

With shielding mind we view the
mounds in which alas we’re truly bound.

Todays best new poem was written by Bosun Abdul.

 

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