Friday, January 04, 2008


Some crows cavort in cryptic quips
about a gothic spire
the biting winter banter whips
their rhetoric much higher—

a glint of opalescent flame
alerts me to the scythe
whose dark side lay devoid of blame
and infinitely blithe.

As chills assail my solitude
I scan the sky for signs
but verity is seldom viewed
within one’s own designs.


Bubba said...

I must take issue with your moniker... you are anything but an 'average poet'. Seldom do I have the pleasure of reading verse so well-conceived and artistically conveyed. Plus, the last two lines show true wisdom... just a great poem.

rch said...

Bob I can't tell you how much your comment means to me. This poem and the last one kind of wrote themselves if I'm being honest. Thanks for ALL your great comments!! Take care,