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Shattered House


On a childless street she stands, her face thrust in her hands, laughing furiously. One man lies under his pushcart upon the dampened loam, liberated of death. A joyful military marches by on whispering conquest toward surrender. A mangy old dog, ribs showing, tethered a shattered house, mocks them.

© 2006 by mark prime
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  1. mirthApril 19, 2006 at 4:57 PM

    Wonderful poem.
    Britan's Straw has said they will not participate in an Iran attack.
    But why would we believe him?

    ReplyDelete
  2. BethApril 19, 2006 at 5:55 PM

    You are tagged. You must tell us five weird habits you have.

    ReplyDelete
  3. LilyApril 19, 2006 at 9:51 PM

    As long as the US companies own the London oil exchange they will do as they are told, I think.

    Thanks, poetryman. I'll have to think on this one some more.

    ReplyDelete
  4. thepoetrymanApril 19, 2006 at 10:22 PM

    Lizzy,
    I visited and find no place for me to tell you five, let alone one, weird habits I have...not that I do have any...;>)

    Elizabeth B,

    Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  5. GApril 20, 2006 at 1:42 AM

    these are scary times

    ReplyDelete
  6. thepoetrymanApril 20, 2006 at 1:08 PM

    graeme,
    how understated you are today. :>)

    Good to see you, sir.

    ReplyDelete

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