Too Much Of A Bad Thing



I write an antibacterial poem
On an antiseptic page
My pen metaphysical
A library of blue black ink
Fading into sepia of cornucopia
I hold my own hand
Fingers restless 
I clasp, unclasp slowly
In a forgotten time
The smell of sanitizer
Stretches the length of my breath
Mumble of masked words
Mouthed in a wail of release
Fertile eyes turn rubble
In the stillness of silence
Unsure of speech..

Corona is a loner, it would not die for me
But it has put the world on hold
On bated breath that fails to rise
An ancient disease brought into a new-age
Sitting on chests of men , with a violence bringing oblivion of death  
Science has kept us  waiting while the world is on a death-wish.....

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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