Shrouded Shelley

Kevin Michael Bloor

The longed-for summer days are dying.
Autumnal leaves already lying
remind us of that solemn season,
which soon will fall, which is the reason

why poets' pens are poised o'er pages;
they hear the storm as if it rages
to stir the soulless savage ocean,
whose waves did drown without emotion

the poet, Percy, (shrouded Shelly.)
Who breathed his last in ocean's belly;
that bloodless beast did still his passion;
turned youthful cheeks from red to ashen!

The longed-for summer days are dying;
upon that beach where body's lying
the poet brothers all assemble,
put pen to page with hands that tremble.

  • Author: Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 20th, 2021 11:37
  • Comment from author about the poem: in memory of the poet, Percy Shelley
  • Category: Sad
  • Views: 36
  • User favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet.


  • Trenz Pruca

    Thank you. An enjoyable read.

  • Accidental Poet

    As always Kevin, an awesome read. 😉

    • Kevin Michael Bloor

      Many thanks, AP. Appreciate, as always, your feedback. 😉

      • Accidental Poet

        As I often say Kevin, Credit given where credit's due. 👍

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