Personified (In Ezra)
Wriggling my way
across the page
I thrash about,
lost by perspective and
challenged to
summon only
significant
passions expressing clarity
of struggle.
The knowing face of
immortality proffers
gracious wisdom
from antiqued parchments to
reassert with
fervent hope
more than just meter or instinct
until I find
Ezra Pound in my
brain with a crayon
hacking away like a
swashbuckler, killing out of
joy the weakest
tendencies of
gluttony:
convention for the sake of
tradition.
I hold my head in my
hands, lamenting my
fuzzy banality and those
cherry lips pedantic whispering
tales of glory in
brutality most
vindictive
without regard to purpose or
veracity.
Your tome falls open as it
topples from my
ossified grasp;
gravity's blank urge grumbles
until words blaze with
clarity reminding
journeys are
more than simply driving to
destinations.
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.
