Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 27, 2026

Falling and Labors Lost

Two items of passionate verse.

Falling

I can't stop it, I fear I'm falling.
From a very high place, down into you.
Is it Love? Not yet.
But for sure it will be if I keep falling this way

Labors Lost

Of the lot of labors lost, our people know such bitter fruit,
Of love forsaken, and fates hither tossed, so many stories become moot.
Our kindred spirits keeps our paths, liken on to a single goal,
To make our lives ever greater and to dip into the immortal bowl
More by Patrick Devine → More poetry → Full issue →
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