"Who are you?" said he, -
Tiny, weak and faint.
Cursing his wretched chemistry,
Lament, to reacquaint.
A seeping mist intruded
Upon ceremony righteously bright;
Looming glee, the vanguard,
Tragedy: its source of pride.
"I am he", says I,
Fugitive of good and wrong.
The balance of the scale -
But a jester, humming along.
Mercy's teary gemstone,
The rust-blade at gallows' edge.
Succulence in memory;
Proprietor, of regret.
I laugh, and I cry, all the while, as I hide
From the brilliance that is "Today."
To weep, and make wary, man unordinary,
Plucking light in the dark of his shade.
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Author:
Nicholas Browning (
Offline) - Published: April 13th, 2021 08:54
- Comment from author about the poem: A better one than earlier, the themes are similar though. Hope you enjoy.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments3
Thank you. A good and thoughtful poem.
Hey, thank you as well!
That light is always there for us but some do not want to see it.
Andy
Thanks for the visit Andy. Some people I believe are also unable to see it, which is quite sad to witness.
Good write N.
Thanks again, Steve my good man!
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