Dark Marshes

Out there are the noises of all that's forgotten,
The groans and distortions of figures so rotten,
So loathsome and lowly, so foul and grotesque,
Moving so slowly through memories repressed.

O the mess of diseases, festering, vile,
The breeding mosquitoes, the still crocodile-
Dark marshes are out there, oh yes, my fine friend,
And if you're not mindful they'll find you in the end!

poem by Joshua Dinkin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!