PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

some time, somewhere, out there

someone had said
that one part of poetry
is a reservoir that holds
all the sadness of this world

What then does this say of a poet?

it is not seen how
that portion poets bear
bare on virginal leaves
all their flight and fears

are tears morphed in pressed ink

`

warmth envelops

dissolving the

bustle and noise

liquid stillness

offers but a momentary

tranquil once upon a time

it is so easy to 

drift off and forget

here the watery balm

soothes celiac rashes

a moment's reprieve

that shuts out reality

provides sombre retreat

cares float away

until unwanted thoughts

stray with blistered report

it is quite possible

through bolted locks 

to lay victim

to home invasion

for someone to play

Corday to one's Marat

a hapless victim stabbed

at home in one's bath

stately tall you meekly stand
on your finger the signet band
for my sake you shunned your crown
for my breath your devotion fierce

you gave for me your sword and squire
your hospitality did never tire
proud brothers in battle or play
companions going about each day

in your shadow I had no care
my home's cupboards were never bare
song and merriment never missed
hunger a stranger to my lips

your place at court set second to mine
your heart pure - best fruit of vine
your eyes reflect esteem so dear
no man's affection held so near

O gallant Prince in battle slain
my soul cries out for you in pain
Saul's crown you've set upon my head -
a long-held secret I shan't covet

My lord, one could never repay; 
the debt of friendship's love dismay? 
to live this life as noble and true
to generously care and give as you

Prince of the Realm, if you could hear
the Scroll of the Upright, loud and clear
in the Song of the Bow proclaimed
praise of our filial bond inscribed.