A poets retortA Poem by ronA poets retort
Pierced through the flesh, scared in the heart.
Would you have thrust your witty point so deep had I been a lesser man? Would you have settled for a mere flesh wound?
Has your blade not dug its barb deep enough? Do you relish in the sight as to watch my soul slowly drain?
Would you, if I begged you to repair this wound with kinder words to my soul?
I will not beg for salvation, nor will I utter a single poem in regret for supposed poetic infractions.
Na, na you will not see me in despair, I will never avail upon you the satisfaction of your supposed triumph.
You may see me bleed from your barbs and pass through the vail (from which earthly bonds have chained my soul and wrought torture upon
it)
But this I promise you, with my last dying poem, you will never have my poetry to claim as your prize, to be hung on the wall like a trapped animal killed for sport.
Na, na...na this will never come to pass, lest you be haunted by you foul deeds.
My poets life you may have taken, but my poetry will never be yours to claim as you would you gilded treasure.
© 2014 ron
Author's Note
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11 Reviews Added on February 6, 2014 Last Updated on February 7, 2014 AuthorronImperial, CAAboutI have been writing on and off or more years than i care to remember. I started writing poetry, than i started a novel (still in the works), now I'm writing a six part short story erotic.. more..Writing
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