The Withering

The Withering

Nobody noticed the Withering,
that all-pervading shadow
perambulating the globe
in perfect anonymity.

All the people became stretched, thinner,
hollow shells full of envy
following those that ate life,
that peddled insecurity,

the crowds that led to the familiar,
no fears, no innovation,
good ideas turned to dust
blown away to obscurity.

This was the Withering in action,
a flooding banality,
a wandering pall of grey
killing originality.

About George Fripley
I am a writer who enjoys writing humour, satire, poetry and sometimes a bit of philosophy. I live in Perth, Western Australia and occasionally get a poem or article published. It's all good fun! I have two books available for unwary readers, Grudges, Rumours and Drama Queens- The Civil Servant's Manual (This contains all that anybody could ever want to know about why government runs so slowly) and More Gravy Please! - the Politician's Handbook. (available through Amazon). Real name Peter Tapsell...just started off writing under a pseudonym and kept going.

2 Responses to The Withering

  1. bejamin4 says:

    Really nice first stanza, and complete poem. I love this part: “that all-pervading shadow /
    perambulating the globe / in perfect anonymity.”

  2. Cheers Bejamin – I rage against the need to be grey and conform – it sucks the energy out of society.

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