Lunatic Ball

Trochaic hexameter... rather difficult to write.

 

 

Waltzing round and round with marked and mirthless laughter,

Maddened people, born by burning lights and candles,

Twirl and spin on sands of time enticing sane disaster.

 

Severed smiles float across these florid faces

Gashed by feigned complacency and grim contentment

Known to those who play with Death’s seducing graces.

 

Neither gripped nor given willingly, their bounding

Vindication wants for pooling wines of crimson,

Screams of manic slaughter; chorus cries resounding

 

Songs of desolate elegies that sound of sorrow.

Neither they, these shaded few, nor we, enlightened

As we mind to say, can know what comes the morrow.

 

Sweet suppressing music plays, and wine is taken,

Moving people once again to dance and journey

On the doleful path of shiftless hearts forsaken.

 

Waltzing round and round with hapless degradation,

Happy people, struck with destined timeless silence,

Slip and fall with sands, accepting this salvation.

Reviews

[Natasha]

Sounds like a ball I'd love to partake in.

It's been awhile since I've read your poems.
I'm impressed.
I loved the flow and the way it seemed to roll off my tongue.
The images your words created were quite a sight to see as well.