I sit before the warming flames and muse
They dance on heat and draft then disappear
Old loves emerge and bring a cherished tear
How sweet the memories though one left a bruise
My youth has flown away not lacking cost,
A bird without recall who’s lost its nest
But free to soar the skies on heedless quests
Yet never to fly home the way is lost
A bruised heart never heals yet better sore
than absent the sweet strains of love in life
Its silken edge cuts deeply sweet like a knife
I sing to love’s e’er gentle, rising bore
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Author:
George (My real name) (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 11th, 2018 10:45
- Comment from author about the poem: The title may be a bit presumptuous but Yeats' work has had a huge influence on me. The rhyme scheme here is the same as his "When You Are Old".
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments1
Nice job. So many avoid form, so it is good to see this piece. Not to mention the A-B-B-A rhyme style is fun to read and flows really well for you.
Yahchanan, I appreciate your very kind words. Yes, form poetry is not as prevalent as it used to be but it is best for me to express my art (though meager it may be) in a more formal way.
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