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Shattered Prisms

Who is this I have found
lying dying
on the ground
drowning in her
prose and woes
making not one
single sound?

Where does she go to
where does she hide
see how she’s swimming
against a recondite tide?

What have the Gods wrought
crumpled on this plot
corrupt with despair
her broken being
her petrified stare
shattered prisms
that I’m seeing?

Where does she go to
where to does she flee
see how she’s racing
from her heart’s plea?

Such is her duty
moonlit soliloquy
mourning chaotic losses
aching for her history
ever aimless to and fro
furiously seeking yet
tossed by an undertow.

Where does she go to
where does she rest
see how she’s hostage
of the demon’s breast?

Dare not intend to
scour this stain
from her smashed
and broken brain
sadly sit and watch
this show transcendent
from hell’s ascendant.

Where does she go to
where does she sleep
see how she’s locked
in the creature’s keep?

Who is this I have found
rotting degrading
into penury fading
choking on the
bloodied inexorable sands
of her once so
pristine inviolable lands?

‘Tis my love right there
I sob, I fret and stare.

Copyright © Rob Levasseur | Year Posted 2021


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Date: 3/29/2021 3:07:00 PM

You are a truly gifted writer. Excellent verse.
Date: 1/23/2021 1:02:00 PM

“drowning in her prose and woes” — great
Date: 1/23/2021 3:34:00 AM

This poem reminds me of Coleridge's Kubla Khan especially this part "moonlit soliloquy mourning chaotic losses aching for her history" Coleridge is my favorite poet.