From a wicker man, a wicker poem.

From a wicker man, a wicker poem.

A Poem by andrew mitchell

Through the mire
a funeral pyre
a journey of
poetic thoughts
that crackles and burns.
While the smoke rises
from a stanza that
formed the heap
on the fire
the verses are
selected one by one
sentenced to death.
Where once was
only the memory
of a poem’s shadow
remains to comfort
the mind that
gave the word
to let go.

© 2021 andrew mitchell

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Added on October 14, 2021
Last Updated on October 14, 2021


andrew mitchell
andrew mitchell

adelaide, Australia

Strindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..