Sweet Earth

See the little piggies
submerged in the black drowning Mud of
our time. See them
they are dying a sweet
death of asphyxiation, Mud being the mellow
honey slowly choking them with love

Yours Truly.

So smother yourselves with the sweet
Soil of the Earth my darlings;
for we must conjoin
with our beginnings. We were
born with the mud, we must
die with it. But before that,
we must Live with it. Mud is us. We are Mud.

We were born out of the Sweet Earth
which gives yet takes
whenever it pleases.
We are part of this Earth like the Sludge that covers
little piggies, the Soil that infiltrates their lungs,

so let us dig a sweet grave for ourselves
in the forgiving Earth that created us.

by Ballerina With Fins

Other poems of WITH FINS (67)

Comments (1)

This is most original, Ballerina. I felt like I was suffocating as I read it. Will read it a few more times. I do like your poetry and will look out for more. Love, Fran xx ps thank you for changing the title of your poem about middle-aged lovers. Your word 'couple' was better than the 'spouses' I suggested.