Speak to me, gone poet
Lend to me your voice
Sing to me a mournful dirge
Or reimburse
Me for my passions’ choice
Speak to me, lov’d poet
Pour for me your voice
Play for me a wedding tune
Or hide the moon
From my muse’s choice
Speak to me, deep poet
Pluck for me your voice
Bring to me that happy flower
Or take this hour
From my mind, devoid
Author notes
horrible and unfinished
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I don't think this is horrible at all -- it makes me feel exactly how one feels when that both heart and mind are completely blank, nothing comes, it's all dust inside -- maybe that's how one gets out of it, writing from the dust and emptiness... I really liked this and hope to read more!
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