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Literature Text
Sweat slides
down the forehead,
the nose,
hangs
on the chin.
Falls,
making holes
in the dust covered handle.
As grass green ankles
march on.
down the forehead,
the nose,
hangs
on the chin.
Falls,
making holes
in the dust covered handle.
As grass green ankles
march on.
Fictional Cartography
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A tribute to the summers spent with an old push mower that was held together with twine and a c-clamp. Used to use it to clean up the spots that neither the tractor or ride-on mower could reach. Southern summers mean a constant war with the 35 acres of grass.
As to why I'm writing poetry it's a combination of I don't know and blame this guy
been reading much of his work lately. Go check him out.
As to why I'm writing poetry it's a combination of I don't know and blame this guy
been reading much of his work lately. Go check him out. © 2009 - 2024 mooshu17
Comments13
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The only thing I'd do to this is to omit "As" in the penultimate line. It's a much more commanding, poignant statement just to say "Grass green ankles march on."