t heart s

chime the dark Gothic organ

press the bones minstrel mayhem

when adhering to lessons taught

the weak poet sought

soon the flustered will diminish

after a daybreak fought

it's now the tears reach windowsills

and the dry flappy tongue begins charging taxes to breathe

I came with fiery and fiercely sharpened fangs

for aught I know is masonry tools for stone wall rubble

a sorry stands alone if the mortar is mined from a hearts' quarry

cherish the morale of the builders by a praise

prettied by applause

but

when towers are constructed on grounds uneven

a shelf can hold no feather

etched under a foreseen palace were letters scribbled childlike

bursting with unsteady chisel scrapes

t heart s

.......

Reviews

[Ruth]

You use metaphor well! This is gloriously toned throughout love and a pleasure to read :) And for the first time reading something...the font chosen in this actually adds a fragility also! Beautiful xoxo