A Drunk Drone
Hovers he for long hours,
Like a solitary quail
Lingering in bowers
like a drunk drone
Reproaching flowers
And
Like a weary worm
Wriggling with creepers.
He whispers to every tree,
Every brook, every flea,
Like a conjurer
Kissing them in glee,
Like a loony lover
Sitting on his knee,
And being stung by a bee,
Swearing his act of feeling
Hearing and seeing
Forms, sounds as the key
To invoke Calliope,
To write epic Poetry.
*7th Place* (Out of ten placements in the following contest; Judged on Aug. 27, 2020)
Aug. 21, 2020
Pareidolia Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Copyright © Newton Ranaweera | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment