From trenches rise the blood of thousand tongues;
a coral drawn from ash and crumbled lungs.
When caged the mining birds have ceased to sing
no feathered warning trills with broken wings
When drab this dreaded doom from muted drums.
becomes a buzz, a background and persistent hum.
I turn my back to spew of news and seek the verse
of waves and tree-top breeze to break my curse.
Linked to Brendan’s prompt at toads of poetic songs … what songs inspire you? Alas I draw a lot of inspiration from the bleakness of the world, and sometimes I just have to turn my back and look at the nature.