The Lonely Troubadour

The lonely Troubadour 

Cloaked in woven lead sits 

And stares into a tuneless abyss 

The empty court 

Beckons with a faceless grin 

And issues the challenge for confessions herein 

But nothing emerges 

No pretty rhymes to lend

Beauty and order to the chaos within

Reviews

[Everett DeValle]

Wow, a very beautifully emotive poem, yet balanced...just lovely. :)

[danielle.]

Thank you.

[Everett DeValle]

You're welcome.

[.]

Nice!!

Lyrical poets from medieval times, the troubadour or minstrel did bring beauty and order to the court! Very wisely stated!
And for one to be lost for lyric and rhyme is a tragedy to behold. God knows many of us modern poets fall prey to such a condition from time to time.
And.....psssst...(*lonely* edit quick!!)

A fine write. Concise and with a deeper enduring message. Nicely done.