Our history is noble and tragic
Like a tyrant’s glaring mask
No hazard nor magical drama
No trivial detail
Makes pathos of our love
Opium possessed de Quincey
Chaste poison drunk to Anne
He dreamed his life away
On on since all must past
I’ll frequently turn back
Memories are hunting horns
Whose sound dies out along with the wind
Poetry 365
Inspired by Billy Collins' Poetry 180 project, I post one poem per day here, for at least a year. | tags by author or subject | contact me here
Tagged
drugs
broken wires
tubes
and rusty needles
in the nose
mouth
and penis.
on the forehead
misleading like a star
dullard or burnt-out bulb
in the spiraling wriggles
of the intestine
the putrid stench
of missing dreams
in sleep
when heavy footsteps come
and give key
it wakes up
grinding worn-out cogs
in the eye-wells,
the spinal passes
the skull-sky
at the bottom of the stomach
tongue-tied
and unable to down a drop of water
like the steel grandpa
who lay bedridden
for yet another lifetime.
