The Elegant's Graveyard
So tactile to the poet yet they slip into oblivion's crescent though they still flow and rhyme in the quintessence of time The bittersweet is with no intercessor they lie quietly quiescent Flamboyant orators let them flow off their lips sublime then let them go by their immolation language can be ambivalent laying in the palace ruins they once were luscious and spry Now they have wandered away no longer being iridescent into the elegant arcane place where words go to die
Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2016
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