Novel Neglect

Similar to another poem of mine 'Uncovered' - I seem to enjoy delving into the world of lost artifacts

Crouching in the rotted dust,

Covers covet the light;

Dull, discoloured dust jackets

And wrinkled leather hides

Of the books that moulder and muse,

Ruminate and render themselves

To dust, as everything must,

Upon long-forgotten shelves.

Becomes the perfect breeding ground

For shadows, for sickness, for sin;

The ladies are seen to turn away

With tarnished faces and tattered gowns,

While the hero remains anonymous,

A nobody about the town.

A plot studded with lacunas

And paralysed on page one,

Words grown together in intimate embraces

Never to be undone.

Thin volumes of poetry

Shiver with the poison of years,

As passions freeze and snow falls in May �"

The daffodils die a beautiful death,

The clouds are mottled and grey.

A teardrop hits the page.

Reviews

[Patrick Donovan]

I so love this line, "Becomes the perfect breeding ground For shadows, for sickness, for sin;" Also,"Thin volumes of poetry
Shiver with the poison of years." GOOD writing... great allusions and metaphor.

The tear reinvigorates it all... revitalizes it all again.

[LuNaR-C]

The 'thin volumes...' line is one of my favourites too. I have an obsession with trying to use the word poison as much as possible. Thanks so much for the review.

[Dr. Wood ?]

well some of this is very good, very good indeed. I was confused by the capitalisation on every line and commas where I was expecting full stops..but you have something Definitely

[LuNaR-C]

My lines begin with capitals because these poems are copied n pasted from word documents where I store them and everytime I press enter, it capitalizes the word.... But thank you for your curiosity :-)

[Dr. Wood ?]

you can put a stop to that happening