Listen to poem:
Felix Culpa
Written: March 12. 2025 For contest Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
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I wonder if you cared when you cried,
I wonder if you cared apropos of your pride.
Maybe I was foolish for your narcissism,
Luxury once trumped passion and eroticism.
We are all bound by a burden of pain,
We bear suffering and raise his stain.
Amid our trials, there is no glint of hope,
In the depths of night, rebirth may grope.
You still need my avail express emotion,
I am navigating the ups and downs of devotion.
Dying is our beacon of hope and light,
the eternal path of righteousness and delight.
Signs and myths twirl in seamless discord,
Shades cover timid awe, grasps of pity chord.
Envy and resentment drove love to break,
Amid the gloom of a clique, sparkle may awake.
Witches and wizards mumble screams,
Warlocks generate visions of dragon flight.
Gypsy fortune-telling witch exudes delight,
Wicca magic casts spells under moonlit streams.
Druid chants echo through earth-based rites,
Typical magic thrives as crystal balls shine bright.
"Namaste" uttered in a cauldron of warm light,
The pendulum swings, revealing secret sights.
Acrylic nails click against the clothesline,
Rainbow fades away, but buzzkill cannot stay.
Attached to slime naturally bright day sway.
Reflect on regret while listening to forces divine.
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