Ivory Tower

Castles surpass the fireball of this timetell sky
Where I forge through thought and pen, as a hermit writer
To decieve the giant and steal away his golden goose
As I carve and climb into my comfort of this rising ivory tower

 

Passion masquerading, obsessions counterfeiting to wisdoms of this mind
Suicidal arrogance too blind, the tools which craft this lofty throne
And thus to sit, script and ponder
A powder white wig and gavel atop a poet, judging all alone

 

What need have I for these pathetic emotions, to thus feel, suffer or love
I am master of my own dominions in this cosmos, creations are, but my will
Bestowed with talents and I splash them with quill upon the whites
And thou heapest praises and green confetti falls into the tills

 

And thou dost laugh out loud labeling one insane, whilst others shed tear to my prose and verse
Unlike thee, I travel the worlds, magical lands from this perch on royal stool
Where does thou journey from? Wretched job then back into own
Whilst I meet kings, queens and fight wild beasts, dear sir now who is the fool

 

‘Tis this justification of my solitary jurisdiction
That I be sole author of my exaggerated worlds and exalted words that I to, begin to
believe that I am above those beneath
More than a human being, a god perhaps, or do I drape myself merely within regarding titles, afraid
To discover I may be a shrinking violet underneath, a piece of moss or a speckled toadstool nestled somewhere lost, high above within a tree

 

I leave thee to ponder this decision, of who I am or who I may be
As for me I shall continue to write and parade these words as well as entertain
The pedestal, 'tis not so bad with meager companionship of my trusting pen, transforming
this lonely spirit through ink onto sheeted realms.
Thus, if through recital or reception of the read, thy spirit wanders lost then all of
this, the life of mine has never once, been in vain

 

Dedicated to all maddening poets

Reviews

[Pryde Foltz]

I loved this character you took on. The poet who perhaps needs a night away from the pen. This piece is marvellously penned. The sign off gave it just the right tone.

[Michael G. Smith]

Thank you. How does this happen? One day I'm listening to a new progressive metal band online while visiting in England and I just start writing several poems. Before, that time I wrote two poems in my entire life. Now, I can't stop writing them. Arggg!!!

[Pryde Foltz]

For me it took a heart trouncing and then the poems just kept a coming. Who knows?

[Michael G. Smith]

that does it every time.

[Rita L. Sev]

... More than a human being, a god perhaps, or do I drape myself merely within regarding titles, afraid
To discover I may be a shrinking violet underneath...

Yes, the pen we wield makes us feel like hero and victim at the same time... A lot to ponder here, Mike!

[Michael G. Smith]

I will tell you the secret of this piece. This poem was specifically aimed at an arrogant writer from another site.