The Tower Of Babel

This is a most miserable Ghost town

No Olive Branch with which to break its spell

Each face is covered with a horrid kell

Forgotten souls who once were of renown

In scalding water they forever drown

Each one lets out a deathly silent yell

There’s nothing her that will his terror quell

False pride now truly wears a horrid crown

LINDA L. KRUSCHKE wants us to finish the octave poem this weekend.

One thought on “The Tower Of Babel

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