Category Archives: George Freek
POEM ON A THEME BY BAUDELAIRE
The sky is black with regret.
It’s painted in tragic tones.
but self-pity makes me groan.
Crows weave in an out of clouds.
The moon gives an eery light.
It’s that kind of night.
I stare out through my screen.
In autumn the screen looks green.
I search high and low.
I search for a point, some point
unseen, but I feel a parasite
has dug into my spleen.
©2012 This work is the property of the author.