Child Games

Sordid tales do rise from below,
of those who’ve gone before.
We carry their lives to and fro
and file it under lore.

But whenst look most carefully,
divining good from bad,
it seems to me most woefully
we carry the worst they had.

Children’s games do tell the tale,
of such dire travesty.
Of their death and destruction trail,
and long gone tragedy.

With pockets full of posies they sing,
and of bridges falling down,
it’s a wonderment that they never bring
a new plague to every town

So I listen quietly and watch a while,
’til one moves away from the pack.
and when my demons do come alive –
I’ll give him forty whacks….

© 2014 John Allen Richter

About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

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