Noah and his Ark: A poem 

It could be said time was dead 

when God’s judgement came to head 

Life is fragile like a whisker 

that can be snipped with a scissor’s censure 

Light speaks volumes when it’s dark 

The count of corpses and the mark 

of a raven’s beak, a dove’s bloodied claw 

And all the wounds of humanity, that are raw 

They said Noah was saviour, even that he was God 

An act is lightning in a sky that is broad 

The famished thinks, and it can be understood 

when he makes God of the Samaritan with the food 

They clutched at the deck in files of two 

with all the flock and assorted crew 

When survival multiplies sin, did they rue 

that salvation is a prize only for a few? 

Published by montecyril

Hi, I am Monte Cyril Rodrigues and live in Melbourne, Australia. I am a retired journalist. I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I've had voices and visions all my life. I think it is a spiritual experience, my doctors think otherwise. I am a deeply spiritual person and keep having experiences with otherworldly realms.

One thought on “Noah and his Ark: A poem 

Leave a comment