If miracle or merely magic
could turn the tide on truth too tragic,
I’d cross the separating sea
to find the girl who once loved me.
But true love’s torrents have run dry,
and sailing ‘neath this savage sky’s
hopeless, since traitors tore to pieces
our love, (those wolves with sheepish fleeces.)
With cruel assassins’ bitter blade,
they meant to murder, turn to shade,
so I’d glide ‘mong the graveyards grieving.
When I was broken, barely breathing
they wiped me from my sweetheart's mind,
my memory, to dust did grind.
Reduced me to pariah, pleading,
like Caesar, by that statue, bleeding.
If miracle or merely magic
could turn the tide on truth too tragic,
I’d cross the separating sea
to find the girl who once loved me.
-
Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 21st, 2022 05:28
- Comment from author about the poem: Me, in 1978, on the eve of losing my true love. (for 32 years) This poem is dedicated to all those interfering parents who think it's their God-given right to decide who their sons or daughters fall in love with. May their chickens all come home to roost! © 11 minutes ago
- Category: Love
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: Saxon Crow, Aradhya.
Offline)
Comments2
A beautifully written poem Kev.
Many thanks, SC.
a very emotional, sad experience beautifully expressed with heart wrenching imagery. truly an exceptional write dear poet!
Thank you, Aradhya. Glad you liked my poor little rhymes.
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