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
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