Unrest (villanelle)A Poem by Christi Moon
though still, it is not tender this unrest, abandoned worn affection’s bitter end; unwinding all we’ve rendered and expressed. such artful contradictions seldom rest, when subtle painted sorrows condescend; though still it is not tender this unrest. for yesterday the flower petals pressed, inlay my sighs and linen’s withered end; unwinding all we’ve rendered and expressed. our deluge of discomfort effervesced, in raging lonely ramparts I descend; though still it is not tender this unrest. against such callow censure thoughts protest. through words of stolen passion tides transcend, unwinding all we’ve rendered and expressed illusions vow of halcyon repressed. with all that I hold sacred I will wend; though still, it is not tender this unrest, unwinding all we’ve rendered and expressed.
© 2011 Christi MoonAuthor's Note
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