Spring Thing
Quintessence of the destiny of Spring,
A woman- twenty-two- is sure the thing.
Her scent's a palace in Nirvana's sun,
Undoing sin that I shall leave undone;
The majesty within her hair's bouquet
Admonishes mankind its feet of clay;
Medusa's antithetic to the eyes
That bargain for my conscience when she cries;
And cherry-red the lips that kiss my cheek,
Departing from the courtship of the meek,
She seeks instead sequoia trees to climb-
A puppet to her juvenescent time-
The mighty will possess her blooming love
That waters underneath and thrives above.
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Author:
Ocean Doubtfire (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 4th, 2022 19:17
- Comment from author about the poem: Please bear in mind I am not the narrator. He is an aspect of myself and others that I am exploring, but I am not usually so indulgent or bitter. This poem aims to capture a moment of awe and self pity, to be comic and tragic, and is better if the reader humours the narrator without becoming him.
- Category: Love
- Views: 25
Offline)
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