Seeds

Miles of fields of gold peace dwellings
all crooning to the chair was his
ideal soundtrack in Heaven;
the other face brought up the screaming crew's
straight line and fearce eyes- the wounded souls
of days past- marching in red,
watching with dead hearts and dejectedly
tucking into their forbidden fruits.
The juice runs down their stubbled chins
in rivulets to dirtied or
raw and bloodied elboes, chests, as
they stare up in disgust
at the stale air refelecting marble
pillars and mindless angels,
spitting their seeds out,
praying, yes, they take root
and taint
Heaven
the paradise.

Reviews

[dreaming dame]

Beautiful, sad... good write:)

[_]

I say that image freaks the bejeezus out of me, *urges not to look out at trees outside* anyway great poem of the two sides, Heaven and Hell. Interesting read. :)

[Coyote Poetry]

I wanted more poetry. The poem was strong in description. I wanted to know the who, what, where, when and how? Your poetry come alive. Open the door to thoughts and mystery. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote