Makar's Court

Makar's Court is a place in Edinburgh's old town with lines from poets and writers carved into the stone.

 

i saw you stagger over makar's court

three in the morning bleeding onto ghosts of words

to play the part of an automaton and poet

you walk into the sunset and stand blinded by the muse

who creates through your clumsy hands a world made of glass

that breaks under human footsteps though you've now become a ghost

who walks the sparkling city like a stranger in your home

hearing the dead recounting stories from the stones that seen to shine

like the memories of starlight you keep shooting through your mind

sic itur ad astra, while you're chasing down your muse

she escapes you in the daytime, the breath of her just out of reach

needing to let her in you again because your city's smashing down

into a broken heap like diamonds, windows watching from the black

that edges on the street that you come home to, not quite knowing where you've been

you can hold the shards in your hands and it won't cut you, not until

you grip into them harder trying to get back to where you were

and you pour your heart out into these empty shapes

of letters nailed to meanings that were already in your blood

and the names that make you angry because they've already found their muse

sic transit astra off the edge of language into death

turning shimmering ideas to bloodstained rain-channels set in stone

words become realer than the flesh, forming cities of their own

and their names will lose all meaning, there might have been no man at all.

Author's Note

I'd really appreciate any feedback or criticism, thanks.

Reviews

[darkgurl]

I like this, I think this is a most wonderful write, I throughly enjoyed your write, Very well written.