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Published: 2005-11-03 10:49:47 +0000 UTC; Views: 150; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 5
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Description
At the end of the world,When the angels take both sides
And the demons take no-one’s;
Holed up in tiny cells, just waiting
And the humans, blessedly ignorant,
Blessedly facile,
Continue with their scurryings
And don’t turn their faces to the hot new wind
The day the heavens split apart
And wander shallow planes to start
The edge’s turn of phrase – at last
These sacred final days.
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Comments: 7
An excellent poem. In my opinion, you may want to change one of the times you've used 'blessed'. You could use another word pertaining to holy aspects. Despite that, you've got yourself a fine example of apocalyptic poetry.
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I know what you mean. That was definitely one of the things I was unsure about, that repitition. It's questionable. I might go and change that now actually. Thanks.
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Not sure why but I find this quite amusing, (and death isn't normally something I find funny). Great poem.
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Thank you, thank you. Much appreciated.
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I like it. Somehow, thoughts about the end of the world make me happy. Go figure.
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Thanks, I think. Always nice to make someone think happy thoughts about something that's incredibly DESTRUCTIVE. At least I'm having an effect 
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