She’s maiden from Moira; I’m boy born in Burton;
her soul’s made of same stuff as mine; I am certain!
So, life of a poet, in love, I am living,
but foes of my loving I’ll not be forgiving.
It may seem I’m lost in my rhyme and verse making,
with heart now unbroken and no longer aching,
but pen pours on paper pain’s past pent-up passion
and fighting my foes hasn’t gone out of fashion!
She’s maiden from Moira; I’m boy born in Burton;
her soul’s made of same stuff as mine; I am certain!
So, life of a poet, in love, though it’s aging,
'Gainst foes, that once forced us apart; is still raging!
And though love smells sweet, and has voice soft and gentle.
or dances like lotus girl so oriental…
My life, as a poet in love’s, more than flowers:
It’s vengeance and warfare with pitiless powers!
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 20th, 2021 10:04
- Comment from author about the poem: love is a battlefield!
- Category: Love
- Views: 17
Offline)
Comments2
Wait, I thought Rudyard Kipling was deceased? Very witty! Thanks.
'but pen pours on paper pain’s past pent-up passion
and fighting my foes hasn’t gone out of fashion!',
wonderful alliteration, a good read: 'giv em hell!'
Thanks, L.B. I churn out rhyme to pass the time.😁
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