Poetic-Verses
GO GRANDANTUS
My mope of cunning men;
I bless this bread;
This race is blessed
To take the turn
On hungry men,
Revealing truth.
A good, nice truth;
Not all that crude
Consolation
Without a foot
Of any good.
To tap my palm
“Reverend Father”
Thus shall they go
Seek out your hope;
No longer grope.
A sure sentence
On every gain:
So shall they so.
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
GO GRANDANTUS
GO GRANDANTUS