swirling around in a Ravenfly poem
Coronavirus rears its head
and gobbles down our spirit,
replacing joy with tons of dread,
because we cannot hear it.
Trapped at home with nothing to do
but wait for Apocalypse,
or so it seems with Satan's brew
producing paranoid trips.
The danger is real, but we will prevail
if we can stay on course against the gale.
Notes on the Ravenfly form of poetry ▼
Let the creativity flow from your soul!
"The Poet's Place "