Three Bells the Cruel Pen

Harken the toll

One

Two

Three

 

Each resonance skidding off my soul

The bells toll taken upon me as sleep evades

 

In the darkened corners

Staring as if to learn

 

Something unattainable

Each verse written by shackled hand

 

Shadows at the window slither off at my gaze

As if to hide

 

Winds gusting

One warm

One cold

One whipping itself into a funnel

 

No chance to set sail

As the breezes confuse the sea

 

All is not lost in the founder of the quill

Seen and yet unseen

 

Not the jealousy of laughter

Not the coo of impassioned lovers

 

Shill and conniving it stalks the hall

As if in Kingly survey of what I am to be

 

What cause is this

That which lights the lamp

 

Illuminating those things which cannot be seen

Cruel pen rise up from the desk

 

Splay it open as if to be understood

By eyes that cannot see

 

Echo off my soul my saint my savior

One

Two

Three

 

Only then cruel pen let me sleep

 

 

Reviews

[...]

. if i was a poetry teacher (ha! such delusions), i would read this poem out to my students ... and then say ... this poet is a true poet ... quod erat demonstrandum ... hence proved ...

. what a brilliant piece of poetry, monsieur ... superbly written ...