In between
the passion
and calm
hide seas of chaos
the lucid stars
whisper in night
and reaching for the moonchild
in Springtime air
resurrection of the leaves
to the Kelly green
of branches fallen
no listen to the here and now
in esoteric groan
void of reason
the prophets of poetry
lay dying in the Ivory Tower
as Marie Antoinette
eats cake
no soldiers marching forward
with solutions
the drawbridge pulls shut
keeping them
outsiders from the king;
assassination of spirit attempted
ne’er successful
failed by persistence
& other shit
of the sort
This poem is really
This poem is really magnificent; really fine. Although the abbreviation in the first line of the last stanza rings hollow (archaic English does not quite fit the contemporary conversational sound of the poem), it does not lessen the verbal effect of the entire poem. I applaud your accomplishment here.
Starward
thank you. glad you liked
thank you. glad you liked it. I know the archaic stuff is corny but I have a soft spot for kitsch