Pea Soup

Word Press Blogging University 201 Poetry, Day Five: Fog, Elegy, Metaphor


Keep your headlights on low, my dear

In the fog and pre-dawn if you fear

You’ll only see shades of grey

And not the truck coming your way.


The disease clouded her mind

All of her memories she could not find

Imprisoned in the darkness

No one can offer solace


Across the field of heather

The mist on the moor lay thick

I’m lost, save me Heathcliff

I fear I perish.


Bonus Limerick

There once was a matron

named Meredith

Her passion was penning poetry

She pulled up her chair to compose her rhyme

You can find her still there pulling her hair over symmetry



7 thoughts on “Pea Soup

  1. I appreciate the bonus Limerick, pull do not pull out all your hair :D. It seem prompt “fog,” concur up Wuthering Heights moments for us both. Your first stanza reads like a good warning on a billboard on a misty lonely highway.

    Liked by 1 person

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