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Steven Ilott Poem
Those melancholic eyes and downturned lip,
Resembling not so much a whining dog
As sorrow crafted with a stagehand’s whip
Or acted by some theatre’s thespian cog,
Did glisten once with tears of salt and truth,
Conveying more the fear of a gazelle
Than mocking looks of crocodiles uncouth;
And thus protective instincts came to swell.
With words of consolation and replies
Of wordless love addressed upon the ear,
I tried to tease out sweet chirrups and sighs,
And out the pores the flaming fever steer.
Ebullience half-drowned by th’urge to weep
Recalled the duty love had made us keep.
Copyright © Steven Ilott | Year Posted 2018
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Details |
Steven Ilott Poem
The course my life sometime appears to follow
Permits not that the bark be called inept,
Like to the devil’s hand which maketh hollow
The banks wherein our precious coins are kept.
For those to whom the poorest cards are dealt
Have no control o’er what they do receive;
Thus is their condition more keenly felt
When up against those fortune doth reprieve.
In love must I be likewise reconciled
To destinies that concur not with will;
And wherefore say others I must be mild,
When such a hole no other peg may fill?
‘Tis easy to envisage pain forgotten
When of none ill were they themselves begotten.
Copyright © Steven Ilott | Year Posted 2018
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