The Violinists Vendetta
As the hail makes love to the streets
I query its vendetta with I
What had I done to be defamed
By such unforeseen chagrin
The sound ‘tis the climax of the horizon
Echoes that of a violinist scarred by sexual mortification
The harmony plays in quite a lovely manner
Could hook one quickly if not careful
Appeased I sit in a wooden, black chair
And saturate in fine rock refrains
A pacifying compensation if I may say
A scripted version of hell
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.
