Those longed-for summer days are dying.
Autumnal leaves, already lying,
remind us of that solemn season,
which soon will fall, and that’s the reason
why poets’ pens are paused o'er pages.
They hear the storm as if it rages
to stir the soulless savage ocean,
whose waves did drown without emotion
the poet, Percy: Shrouded Shelley!
Who breathed his last in ocean's belly.
That bloodless beast, it stole his passion.
Turned youthful cheeks from red to ashen.
That longed-for summer day lay dying.
Upon that beach where body's lying
the poet brothers all assembled,
their pen-free hands, ‘neath cloaks, all trembled.
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 3rd, 2026 08:48
- Comment from author about the poem: An ode to Percy
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship
Offline)
Comments4
A great poem of tribute well done
Many thanks, SB
Most welcome
Nicely done
Wonderful ode to Percy Kevin.
Andy
Haven't seen you in a while. Much enjoyed read, here. 🙏👍🏻🕊️
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