The Muse

(An International Journal of Poetry)

Volume-1                                              december-2011                                                    Number-2

 

APOCALYPSE 
 
                                by John Behan

In the eyrie half glow,

The pulse of life ceased.

Dust thrown miles high,

Spread like an absurd mushroom.

The grim reaper worked to full maximum.

Silence like a blanket covers the world,

Bridges once magnificent, twisted wrecks,

Buildings reduced to piles of rubble.

Vast oceans heave, mixing radioactive poison.

In a small corner of an unknown place,

A woman made of ash kneels,

Her arms protecting a small child,

A slight breeze sends them to oblivion

 

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