a siren's sonnet

Kevin Michael Bloor

Dismay has damned my pencil lead,
since Shelley’s stanzas I have read.
And now I’m lost – all uninspired.
His compositions have conspired
to strip me of my poet’s cloak.
I hid beneath it when I spoke,
or played with pen in poet’s pose.
Some other calling should have chose!
For I have flown too near the sun,
like Icarus’ wax wings, undone.
And all my sawdust-scented scrawl
(slow scribble of a baby’s crawl)
beside that god with silver tongue
sounds sham as siren’s sordid song.

  • Author: Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 17th, 2022 04:35
  • Comment from author about the poem: written, after reading the inspired stanzas of a proper poet: Shelley.
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 20

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.