- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Beggerman
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Click herethe beggerman walks in tatters and shreds
and carrys a sack full of rotting heads;
with the crows of life soaring round his brain
and the maggots of death the crows to explain.
The creaking of age in decaying bones,
and the flesh of worms, unspoken moans,
a great gray beard and a twisted grin
with spittle drop on a fleshy chin
The wail of the wind and the squalid air,
the cry of the lice in the unwashed hair.
The whisper of death and the ageless ground,
the washed out eyes on a bleached gray mound.
A soul-black train on a motionless track
carries a whore with a broken back.
A walking stick and tatters and shreds,
and all that remain are the rotting heads.
- COMMENTS
normal jeanalmost 16 years agothere is something more. a touch of sorrow, or perhaps, pity. Good job with this one, you got the feelings, emotion across and that is a difficult thing to do, especially with a rhyming poem.
