poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2007


Crabs mournfuly crawl
Over small glass shards unable
To cut - not even in brawl
A landscape taken from fable

Descented by no known creatures
Left by gods lonely hand
Without student or teacher
Without question or demand

On a cliff stands a preacher
And speaks of a beautiful world
Of green and blue without darkness
He sings without speaking words

Though the world he lives in is perfect
He gazes out over silent seas
Out of love he creates suffering and disease
And fights the tender breeze

Left on a long voyage
He sits and cuts the waves
Without emotion or eagerness
Or the will that god gave

The sand is white as snow
Where he raises a stubborn cross
A reminder of humanities first -