Within these walls
A poet slept and
Visions of angels
Crept into his dreams
Distant lands
And tigers
Lambs
and chimney sweeps
Painted themselves
Upon his silent canvas
Made their mark on his mind
Wended their way
Through London streets
Along ancient shores
And while he slumbered
Poems formed within -
Golden rhymes
Iambic rhythms
Carved themselves
Into life
That upon his waking
Would flood the page
With violent beauty
And storm the walls of new Albion.
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Author:
Keith (
Offline) - Published: January 20th, 2022 03:56
- Comment from author about the poem: Written a few years back now. A simple piece about one of my favourite poets - imagining myself in a house in which he once lived.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 43
Offline)
Comments4
wonderfully conceived
an enjoyable journey
through the influences, that tattooed themselves
and helped colour
your creativity's distinct tints,
thanks for sharing, dear poet
So pleased you liked it L.B.! Thank you for dropping by!
A perfectly worded tribute which slowly unwinds the secrets that poet left behind. A compelling read Keith.
As always my thanks go out to you for your kind words, Fay. Have a wonderful weekend.
I am in awe. Thank you.
Gosh....that's quite something...means a lot to me. Many thanks and warm wishes , Rozina.
Wonderful words and tribute to a truly wonderful poet.
Andy
Cheers|! So good of you to take the time to comment - means a lot , Andy.
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