literature

Rats

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Literature Text

Gnawing on the scraps
of the shining ballroom table,
down to the roots, rotting food,
the pining mood for a chunk of maple
from a horde of swarming rats.

Bringing with a haze
of filth to hardwood and marble,
all of the soot, could or should,
with or sans guilt the ripe goods a cart full
of swill for the vermins’ graze.

Hanging on a tree
Like an apple or a ripe fig,
they grapple, inevitably crackle
no matter how wise or big;
the eyes around never let be.

Tow’ring tall, an oak,
poplar or long lasting pine;
up farther small wood carvers,
on all the rats chew and gnash and grind
to dust, caught in their fur coats.

Sprawling beneath,
in the dirty rivers running,
all the critters, they skitter
to cities bigger and more cunning
than they, to sharpen their teeth.

Lasting to the last
of the steel towers of Babel,
such power, many had cowered
before they lowered like dying maples
to a horde of swarming rats.
Another poem. 

I put more effort into this one than I did Bird's, and I feel this is clearly the stronger piece. I'd definitely like some criticism about it. I only have so many people I can show my poetry, and I can't get much helpful criticism from any of them. Not everyone's a poet, which is a blessing and a burden. 

So yeah, tell me what you think. 
© 2014 - 2024 Peribyss
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