Ink – Poetry


By J.A. Weymouth


Damn it all the eye that sees


A crying pain, a sinking hope. Lost now


The modern feeling is beyond all me.


A touch of a sinking age, now


And always through a pictured



Her legs spread for an insurance add.


Oh screaming children who cry against,

The elder men and women. No gold for these

Wrinkled eyes.


No respect for the elderly.


No handicapped ear.


And what form do you have? For a stamp.

Or a dollar?


No print can remember us.

8 thoughts on “Ink – Poetry

  1. Striking in its clarity of broken imagery. The poem reads from start to finish and vice versa. I actually read it from finish to start the first time. Keep creating!

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