Après Moi, le Déluge

An English sonnet about wrecking my motorcycle.

 

Beneath an eventide’s belovèd sky,

Whose vacant stare enraptured endless pause,

I laid; a fallen king, dishonored by

His kingdom’s copious harsh applause;

‘T was neither she nor I who left in hate,

Yet there we laid bereft and recently

Assigned to suffer want of needed sate,

Although we waited just as decently.

The kingdom roared in waves for my disdain,

Unlike the waves that brush alluvium

Aside with tender care and purposed reign

To form the halcyon sight, Elysium.

I laid, a fool amid my fallen queen;

My love, my mode, my ruined lost machine.

Reviews

[Natasha]

LOVE.
That is all I need to say about this.
That annnnnd...new favorite poem.

[this is pure flattery, haha. damn.]