Waiting for the music,
naked and alone
the words become orphans,
unsung and unknown
The letters in limbo,
each phrase nether blown
with melody absent
—the magic disowned
(Rosemont College: December, 2021)
Coup D'etat
Fashioned in enameled vacancy,
the gentry’s veil was pierced
Exposed unclean, all vices seen,
through fury sharp and fierce
The folly of their blasphemy,
whose cover all but blown
With blood to flow from ramparts high
—once driven from the throne
(Dreamsleep: December, 2021)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: December 9th, 2021 11:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Offline)
Comments4
The words still an orphan. .. Great line and a very well penned poem
Thank you.
Really like this
Thanks much.
Beautiful. A poem that deserves such a great title. You've made me feel so much, in not so many words; you should be proud of your work, and write many more.
Thanks CE, much appreciated.
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