Monday, January 31, 2011

Two Poem Drafts

Royal

As though I were a twelve-point stag
you've slain me:
though royal in my gloried might
I fell.
These passions in my beating heart
arraign me
before a court of life and death
to tell
of all my soul's desires, which now mount
unsated
as blood from forth the hunted heart
will swell;
and yet your bullet leaves me more and more
elated
with joy not lead nor pain nor death
can quell.

Bells

The bells ring out with concinny,
how fair and low, how long
they ring of right and wrong,
of truth with time and tintinny;
like crystal charged with ecstasy
they call out notes among
the hills; their voices strong
that, bounded, hide infinity.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please understand that this weblog runs on a third-party comment system, not on Blogger's comment system. If you have come by way of a mobile device and can see this message, you may have landed on the Blogger comment page, or the third party commenting system has not yet completely loaded; your comments will only be shown on this page and not on the page most people will see, and it is much more likely that your comment will be missed.