The alphabets that convey your passion has for long been my haunted game
I smiled at your tears, offered a handkerchief for your words
That which you answer to, my heart does it unsheathe
The permanence of nature is put to task in your slumber
Though on handicapped wings, my vivid vision flies
I race with a million eagles as your smile duplicates my imagination
My world proclaims your insanity
Yet in that sanctuary you spun shelter
Did you not speak of me to your fairies?
And speakest not you of their tender resistance for me?
I feasted on your words and was fool as your virtues clouds understanding
Today, the fire in your dress provides a crystal wall for my stress
I turned the table upside down, you remain open
I stole your trust, your preamble intact the next dawn
This inferno, I long to put out
I dug a well but drew my blood
For the first matchstick my bill bought
Beneath my sack of straw did I spy your Angels toil, in quest of no injuries for your first aid
I campaigned for festivities and erupted a tyrant of anonymity
My heart softened to caress your fragile pages
My pupils now frozen whilst they behold your cover in flames
The Sun reinforces her drums as my poodle gives cause for you to dance in baking silence
Yet your fears you ground alongside your tears ignoring their honest raps
On your bolted shutters as they plead to play pistols for my sake
We lay claim to the waste of my deeds
My holster still smoking from the screams of our duel
‘Twas a tearful laughter, a mournful mimic, that which the Queen sweetened out its unpleasantry
My sword’s skull, I lay in surrender less my subconscious mind musters magic monsters
Though I know your watered wrists, will never betray the blade
This Ankle’s spear, will give way for the knee’s socket.
As my caps embrace the granite, only in that retreating torture, will I render my enforcer taciturn
My Calvary, charred in catastrophic chaos commands his wild taste in the tongue of truce
For I spotted you in battle, ignored the bells of the rattle, and soaked me in this river of the bottle.
Drenched, I supplicate;
Less these nostalgic embers, melts down the wisdom in your words.
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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wow, nice work, very nice. its going to take time for all of that to sink in completely so please forgive me for such a limited reply..
that is the way of poetry