Visions of a faceless being
Emotions stirred without seeing
Stricken children lost at birth
Like wickless candles, without worth
Haunting eyes and bodies frail
The tendrils of my heart assail


About oldmainer

I am a retired manager living in Southern Maine and a would be writer of poetry, narratives, short stories, and random opinions, and that's how Oldmainer was born. Recently, I decided to try an experiment. I added photography to the mix, using only a cheap cell phone with a limited camera and the editing software that came with it, and added the blog site Inklings at poormanspoet.wordpress.com to showcase the results. So, feel free to use whatever you find interesting or worthy, but please honor the terms of my copyright when and if you do. They may not be much, but they are still a piece of me. I appreciate your checking me out and hope that you find something that will encourage a return visit. Thanks for stopping by.
This entry was posted in Death, Famine, Fear, Generations, History, Kids, Life, Perspective, Poetry, Reflection, Sad and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Lost

  1. quiall says:

    My heart hurts . . .


  2. scifihammy says:

    A haunting poem.
    There should be no hungry children in the world. We are all failing them.


  3. Horrifying. We are all responsible for everything that happens. We have purposely NOT been taught how to make a real difference, to bring about positive change, so that we would never upset the status quo of the rich and powerful. You are looking at what they are willing to allow, so they can have more.


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