- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Crumbs
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Day old bread
discarded, tossed to the wind.
No thought to pattern,
scattered hastily;
food for crows.
Crusts still intact;
fancy finger food wasn’t coveted,
but more than a casual tidbit was needed.
Freshness now leeched;
sitting on the shelf,
time offers no grace.
Crumbs no longer sustain.
Stale and without substance;
bereft of value, purity;
a murky gray.
A beggar’s banquet
tempts no more.
You don’t understand
why the scraps once held,
no longer serve me.
A ravenous appetite
demands satiation.
Credence gives hope
for a feast never before known.
Specks of mold form;
particles continue to decay.
As my back turns
the pecking begins;
squawks echo,
vultures hover, and compete
for this worthless fodder.
- COMMENTS
LeBrozalmost 17 years agoThis poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 35,000 poems.
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steve porterover 19 years agoespecially the last line "and compete for this worthless fodder." Thank you!
PatCarringtonover 19 years agoi agree with Tath / your poetry is getting stronger, finding a voice /
