I, and you, will make a mark without chisel or nail
Where now, I cannot say, but that I shall
Long laboring, to hold no grasp of end or fail
Not like those men, wretched, miserable
Who, upon that door at which no one ever dared refuse to bow
At cracks and crevices in vain scratch and pull
Like men who fence across the salle
Each of them to curse and spit and fall
And in the mud to screech and hiss and howl
Let none to question have the gall
We will set an inky mark upon the page
That I will die for you, or not at all
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Author:
Severus Alexander (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 17th, 2017 18:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
Offline)
Comments4
I consider the first tercet to be a poem in of itself. But let it with the others stand together, whether they stand together or apart.
I'm resolving to go to my grave in peace, so long as I set my mark upon the page. (Incidentally, to die for a loved one).
Leave your mark and leave it wisely. 👍
Please don't die😅 I need you. I love the poem by the way. (Then again, I love all of your poems)
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