Fool's Gold
A menacing silence
Broken
Roars of thunder sweep the plains
Startled, four stand, alert
A spark and a monstrous pointed flame.
The four run, cringing, weeping
From the shuddering wheels of thunder
Throbbing, shrieking metal flashes
Anguish and a scream.
A menacing silence
Smoke, darker than night, covers the plains
Two clean their wounds and count their hoard
The third, the last, hesitantly lights a fire
Distantly a scream of rage rolls
The third softly laughs
But shudders.
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Fool's Gold, which
was posted on May 31, 2010 by
WandrinMinstrel.
This is a solo poem.
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