Poetry Corner

Winston had a large black dog
It followed him about
While Winston slept
It chased his dreams
Or lay there round and stout
It licked his face
It bit his hand
It growled
It snarled
It smelt
It gnawed away at Winston’s faith
In God
In man
In self.– Peter Brown
This entry was posted in Poetry Corner. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>