Manna Language

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

This speaking of a sentence made of lines,

Of gems and lines and sonnets, is his way.

He tried the normal way but life had mines

And not the diamond kind.  Not quite dismay

It came, mere disappointment like a bloom

That tried to open but was godless, parched.

He found that normal living was a room

Beneath a pyramid, its meaning starched

With death and hieroglyphic gods.  They knew

In ciphers that there is no shaft to stars

But smiled and kept the secret, starship crew

With smirking, pleated robes concealing scars.

  He hit on sonnets, little packets made

    Of Fabergé-like signals Christ has prayed.

                                                                      ©