The Poem

For World Peace!

Plural is a verb to blind optimism,

Hope’s the candle in an empty prison.

The dusk sleeps with a lonely prism,

Alas, died the sky to a moon’s treason...

A palm pale with pained sickness,

The birds outside sing free...

Death is failure’s drowning weakness,

The window shut as the walls breathe...

Sleeping Madrigal thus sealed no lip,

A Garth cries a weeping bliss!

The empty moon in a sorrow dip,

Pale are my lips we hence kiss!

Sleeping silkworm thus breathes a knit,

How sad could be agony’s grey pencil?

My awaiting cobweb has your candle lit,

The empty sky is hope’s painted stencil...

The waiting dawn aches to breathe,

A night paints a portrait grey.

The amused streetlight sets life free,

Heaven’s *wreathe to his empty prey...

The wind’s a spelling on a chin,

Flowers died before the wedding...

The nightingale has a monopoly sing,

A Rosary to look up the blue bedding...