Death In These Moors by Steve Altman
Arts Richmond
Online - 01 November 2020

Death in these Moors,
Vanishing in empty distance.
Wallowing joyfully in my
Quest for annihilation.
Gazing upon forest oak
And laser sounds of skylark.
Feeling the grip of soft
Nature’s hand upon my throat.
I try to shake her off
And love her as a human should.
But man made laws sicken me.
They leave me numb.
I vomit out goodness,
A pile of russet leaves upon
The damp floor.
No longer am I interested.
There is a place for
Melancholy, self-loathing and jealousy.
A triad that nourishes as
Much as it destroys.
No, I refuse to banish
This rawness fused at my core.
Plunging into this cutting life force,
The death knell can wait.
Death in these Moors by Steve Altman
EGM and AGM
Wednesday 2 December 2020, 19:30
Online via Zoom
Young Writers Festival Competition
The Roger McGough Annual Poetry Prize 2020
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