Untitled

As visage as half as vexed

Would keep the angels confounded by sadness

The image everlasting

Syrupy saccharine

Evaporate like tobacco in his pipe

Or any broken notion of joy in his life

The implosion of emotions unspoken

The soul’s erosion and the void brought to light

The sickly disposition of the hapless

Reincarnated, incarcerated

At once and evermore re-painted

As the disdainful shame in

This apparent joke with no punch-line

The chorus of each day

The refrain of every night

The old widower’s candor and bravery wane

As he, weak, withers back in his chair

The pipe must be re-filled

And the Hemingway spared

Reviews

[Ruth]

OMG!
Wordsmith you are! lol
Beautiful!
I can get lost in your spiral of weaving, great to find awesome work such as this!
xx