A beggar's banquet of mind drowns in my citadel.

A beggar's banquet of mind drowns in my citadel.

A Poem by andrew mitchell

The choir of mind hums
to the churning of bell chimes
dark was the drums on death cries
that bellows from the shadows that shriek
on trumpet's echoes fading....
the lantern swings
on memories black-
the picture of spells drooling
painted in a haze
move hurriedly
in the shadows of ghosts.

© 2017 andrew mitchell


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Added on November 18, 2017
Last Updated on November 18, 2017

Author

andrew mitchell
andrew mitchell

adelaide, Australia



About
Strindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..