Thursday, November 11, 2021

The Last Day of Pompeii (Karl Bryullov), Sonnet #589


Some chose to run, many to hide

Inside their temples and rooms,

Where every one of them died

In incendiary tombs.

I walk in a mourning fog

Outside and inside my mind,

Hand in hand with Gog Magog

And all the rest of my kind.

What are these floods and fires

And stupidity admirers

(Viruses in a cracked petri jar)?

How can I fight the coming war

We’re already losing day by day

As we run, slower and slower, away?

My book of the first 200 of these sonnets is now available for purchase at Amazon. Click here:

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