Poem 15

I thought I would start with this poem first - as the first 14 were indeed rubbish (just finding his feet as it were) So here we go......Poem 15

Poem 15
Convoluted thoughts, strangled and tied up
By design and desire
Caught in the crossfire
Serpent like slithering in the mud
Hands covered with dried blood
On the shores of the sea
The remains of a tree
Washed up, bleached white
And carved with initials
And dates and crude rhymes
From distant times
And the wine was sour
But we drank for an hour
And felt sick
In the pit
But inhaling the fumes
And the poisoned air
Seemed fair
As we caught sight
Of a light
In the sky
That took all our dreams
And exploded them sky high
Then rammed the images
Down our raw throats
And made us choke
On the thorns of a rose
As we struggled to speak
Of days when we’d meet
In the old schoolyard
Like a pair of wild cards