Fortune Works In Stone
tercets
Forged from absolute luck
housed in pure, pious pluck.
- an ivory iris - It took some work.
Soaked my clay many times
in the juice of sour limes -
snubbing barbs from my peers, "you stupid jerk!"
It stripped the brass from this loon
in the sight of the moon
rubbing sand in blisters, catching my breath.
Now as the grandeur fades
I will, as grace cascades,
fashion an ebony iris for death.
written: Dec 28, 2014
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
