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I am a true barbarian
Wrapped in thylacine skins
The church lays in ruins
Winter rushes in
And lays claims to the remains
Of the faithful's souls
Through the rubble
I can see an horizon
Somewhat east
Darkness closes behind me like a wound
I walk on
A dawn beckons
A healing spring awaits
From which I will drink the essence of my flesh

Hi Bernard and welcome to the forum! Where are you from?

I really like this poem.

I am a true barbarian
Wrapped in thylacine skins

Oh yes, so am I!

Thanks!

Diane

Hi Diane,

Greetings from a coastal town in Australia. The surf begins to build for the Easter tides. I feel another poem coming on.

Seeya Bernard

The thylacine, like the acrylic, is an endangered species.

I belong to the NSPKA and we hold regular meetings.

Byron, I thought you preferred to be wrapped in polystyrene skins .