Mammon is their Father

 

 

I’ll name my daughter Silver

My son, Gold

Eternity will shimmer

Like spectrums in summer

Dreams sparkling down

White walls

Sparing any unnecessary

End

Poetry will play in gardens

Dazzled with raspberries

And roses without thorns

The days of stopped time

Will stop

While whimsical air

Spreads seeds

In places never known

Uncertainty has been a Master

Where slaves are rarely born

But

This will cease in Whispers

Hope is never found in pockets

Reviews

[ighost03]

that warrants an applause. this is indeed a poem for mammon, well done. you have successfully planted your words into my minds, in a very pretty way.

[Legion]

Well done. That last line really brings everything home nicely. Although pigs don't actually have pockets. :) Great work.

[An owl on the moon]

Absolutely brlliant on so many levels... Your poetic lines are so vivid, the metaphor so rich (literally), the nature of the piece so profound! Powerful and emotive!

Craig

[Hedra Helix]

glorious too;) wow woman, all these new?