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Simon Knell Poem
Today is not the day to change,
I fear my heart feels rather strange,
For ever since the day did break,
I could not strain; my heart can't wake.
The sun burns bright, it swells my skin,
The birds chirp loud of mortal sin,
Although she's left, I long for Night,
We weep alone, away from sight.
Tomorrow's moon waits still below,
For me, the morning sun climbs slow,
But now I do not wish to start,
The task that yearns to quell my heart.
Though someday far, I must conclude,
This sullen life of solitude,
It cannot be this westbound gale,
That lifts my heart and fills my sail.
Copyright © Simon Knell | Year Posted 2011
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Details |
Simon Knell Poem
For those who say that skill defines the art,
And nothing matters more than perfect form,
I must admit, they conjure up a storm,
That devastates the realm of home and heart.
But from this Devil's eyes I now can see,
The Ear's delightful rapture in the norm,
Because its cadence is so soft and warm,
Arranged so that true grace will always be.
The true intent behind this long debate,
We feel and sometimes know, but will not tell,
And if we stay this path, tis only fate
To dress the placemats of eternal Hell.
Both poets, now together, must create
The dove's embrace, the ringing of the bell.
Copyright © Simon Knell | Year Posted 2011
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