Published June 17, 2010
A single rose loomed amongst weeds:
A bloody head, shading pygmy
greens.
A creature climbs the rose-stem,
struggles, then slides down into
the mire.
A fatted antelope grazes,
fowl beasts lying, preparing
to kill.
The fittest eat, others snarl, drooling,
waiting for skeletal remains
to come.
A rich fat-cat prances in suits:
his tailored tie, died red, with blood
of men.
Workers look in plain jealousy,
bitterness, while grinding their bones
to dust.
All the world’s servants are on ladders of rank,
some are rosy, most are dank.
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139,427 Literary Works • 672,561 Reviews
Awesome subject, and very nice details. It feels like it rhymes when in actuality it doesn't always. It has a very good rhythm, though the meaning can be sketchy, maybe on purpose.
:Jeanette:
The indenting went a bit off but you get the idea.