A Skeletal Harvest

by Ben Pickard   Mar 19, 2019


above my head,

and the swans' necks snapped in unison.
Through each of the valleys and ever anon
I am chased by the waifs and the hooligans.

I hide in the caves, but hither they come -
they steal and they sneak through the heath;
and as I lie broken, bent and alone
I have come to this wretched belief:

That over the aeons - through centuries passed -
there are bones of all those that were lost;
for they, too, were buried and left for the wolves
in caves, that from life, they were tossed.


over my ears,

and the bullets leave holes through my head.
Please, somebody come, and gather the bones,
of me and all those that are dead.


Ben Pickard 2019


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Latest Comments

  • 2 years ago

    by Brenda

    Congratulations on your win Ben! Well deserved!

  • 2 years ago

    by Meena Krish

    This is a heart wrenching poem where the images pop out so
    vividly and makes the reader feel every word and feelings...a teary
    read...well penned.
    Congrats on the win..

  • 2 years ago

    by Star

    I am so happy this made to the front page!!

  • 2 years ago


    Nice work Ben, worthy of the Nomination!

  • 2 years ago

    by DarkLight

    Lovely piece.

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