Serving

^{Weathering days at blade heath edge, Trapped in a stainless cage,}

^{Exasperated, yielding, a-mort, mourning the passing of golden}

Dawns, rich silver night of reading, temptations of a

^{World more exciting then this, cascades of happy}

^{Thought still appealing, isolated, seeking, fearing,}

^{Converse with saints unmoved, further too the trials to be}

^{Succeeded, weathering days of bleak alteration,}

^{Trapped in soulless institution.}

Reviews

[J.K. (Not Rowling)]

I must say it's interesting to read what happens when you think inside the box. I particularly like your use of the word "weathering" at both the beginning and the end of the poem (further reinforcing your caged desire to wear away the constraints... though I could be reading way too much into it). As always, your images are remarkably strong and vivid. Very well done.

[R J Askew]

This was a surprise! I like it. It's visually and verbally bold and assertive. The languge is strong. Like 'further to the trials to be'. I wonder if 'mort' and 'golden' are references to your recent sad loss? A lot of people stuck in dull careers might feel like this from time to time, I know I do.