Battered
Toils and brawls hit hard herebelow
Till poetry and its bliss are forgotten;
Till the joys of rhyme totter battered
By thrusts of a world foul and rotten.
But when the last of blows
The versifier's nose all wet
Has left in crimson sutures,
This quill shall scribble yet.
Copyright © Hannington Mumo | Year Posted 2023
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