He dug deep in the soil,
the loam and silt of a fertile marsh;
from a long line of broken-back men,
inured to suffering and pain,
consistent with their DNA
from far distant crescents.
The men who toiled and fed the idle,
who gave their all to generations,
many to rot in the quagmires
of pointless conflicts, or like him —
alone, prostrate in his garden.
Copyright Francis 2021
Source is whole Yet a paradox of ever-changing and evolving soul Thoughts of every kind taking a stroll Reading the lines of this universal scroll Some voices trying to be my troll Swimming through dualities of the cosmic magnetic pole Always reaching for new heights High expectations are in the realm of human sights Illuminationing […]
Ace & Amber Poetry #4: Emerging Whole — DiosRaw
You can’t leave the earth,
there are many jobs to do —
work with the seasons
Copyright Francis 2021
Suggestive cloud shapes
set one’s mind off on tangents —
coincidences?
Copyright Francis 2021
It rained all night.
It’s been raining all day —
catch up on reading
Copyright Francis 2021
Ciscography 