My heart forever longs for poetry;
bathe me in rose petals scribbled with red rhymes,
blanket me in deaths of poets forsaken,
drench me by the rain poured on Dickinson,
tenderly peck my forehead like it's the end,
honor soul mine when I get into the carriage,
plant lilacs over my withered frame,
recite Poe to my engraved nevermore said name,
and light white candles as I am reborn-
the darkest cat with the brightest eyes torn,
walking tiptoes on Shakespearean prose.
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Author:
Moonchild (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 5th, 2022 08:21
- Comment from author about the poem: I am back!! Wrote this beautiful piece yesterday, after the rain, sitting by my window in my pajamas sipping coffee and dreaming...
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 8
Offline)
Comments1
So basically you had a jammy day, dreaming of dead poets, then writing a poem. This is the way it should be, jammy days should be made law.
Honestly love your sense of humor
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