Diablerie on 22 October 2010
Poems. It's what I do when I can't seem to get my books out of my head and onto a piece of paper (computer). And much more when I've been drinking. Here's a quick one, made up, on the spot. It's ok. The lisp part makes no sense but it's staying dammit.
A Mother's Love -- 1879
Spoken with a lisp, tied with a twist,
some simple noose, a gasp
as she twitched,
a notch on a pole,
a boy in a hole,
buried too young,
on a rope she was hung.
