|
| |
Invictus By William Ernest Henley
I am the master
of my fate,
I am the captain
of my soul,
Shackled and bound
naught pensive mood,
Errant thy mind
unique ahold,
Gift naught against
thy solitude,
Further addressed
words oft betold,
Thine wounds convey
said blood doth shed,
Thine consequence
freedom commit,
Inscribed in blood
their conceits fed,
Thy testament
thee naught submit,
Thy body broke
thy skin be bruised,
Thy dogs licked wounds
thy name tainted,
Yet, albeit,
chose naught be used,
Nor to be
manipulated,
Annals of time
should fortune find,
Sorted soul
of true conviction,
Should paths be crossed
be thee unkind,
Thank the gods
thy valediction.
2020 February 02
Howmanysyllables;
18 lines x 8 syllables per = 144 syllables total
Copyright ©
Hilo Poet
|
|