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anticlimax

9 November 2010

I am unsure of the words
the sounds of violence heard
in the distance brings
a momentary solace, a respite
while the caged bird sings

and in the deep of the darkening night
the words become a chant of madness and fright
nothing matters; the sounds of the sea
are now so very far away…
wither shall we wander? who will answer me?

here moth doth devour, death decays
and swallows all in entropic displays
of her overwhelming, glorious might
while the windswept house stirs
not, millstones pave the floor of the sea,
and a lonely poet plucks the heart’s harp-strings.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. 9 November 2010 23:02

    Beautiful poem. Quiet. Haunting. Like a memory edged in sepia.

  2. 14 December 2010 17:48

    I’m checking in – haven’t sen any posts or poems recent and hope things are OK with you.

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