He asked her if she loved him still,
Amid the clamoring of the noonday bell.
The strident chant of hue and cry;
A sound he'd come to know so well.
Entreating eyes, he searched in vain,
In hopes of glimmering light.
That words spoken bore a weight
upon this cherished sight.
Pale and worn, he leaned upon
a final hopeless plea.
A man who knew before he spoke,
what her answer would be.
Author notes
Sometimes like sucks. Sometimes it doesn't. This poem sucks but I don't care. Pass me a cookie and a Moxie. Thank you.
In a list
A Shocking Tale Of Horror!
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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I have an ancient poetry book entitled "Pearsons New Reciter"..published in 1920..I guess it was new then..but I found it in a dump when i was six. Your poem has a similarity of tone of many in that book..bringing back glad memories of turning crumbling pages.
In regards to this poem of yours, for some reason i picture a young man half mad..with bells in his mind..where is the girl?..
I'm thinking of making cookies today..you can have one..theyre always delicious
on a side note..who is Debbie Mcgee?..is she sam Mcgee's sister?..she sounds like a cowgirl with a red hat..
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Cookies!!!
Debbie McGee is a state of mind. Actually she's a magician's assistant and also his wife.
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heh..cool gig..nothing like being sawed in half every other night..safer to be a cowgirl..
sorry..no cookies today..got lazy and spontaneous at the same time..bought a bottle of wine and forgot about the world for all of 5 hours...mm..naptime methinks..dreamt a poem last night..must recall.
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Too hot for cookies anyway. I could go for some ice cream though.
Dreamed a poem? Cool. I just dream about giant iguanas stealing all my Moxie.
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Bells and buzzers remind us it's time to make the donuts.
When I was on vacation, I took off my watch when I arrived and placed it in a drawer. Despite my efforts, my internal sundial/moondial shadowed and I had a sense of the hour within 15 minutes. I guess it's a talent/curse depending on how you look at it.
Inside we know the time but still need to hear the bell to confirm it.
Have a cookie for writing a sad poem.
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Chocolate chip I hope
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Hershey chocolate chips.
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Yum...has Ginger slopped all over them?
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Nay, I saved them meself from the salty dog.
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Still a pirate I see. So? Do you know Captain Jack Sparrow?
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Aye! Tis me cap'n who has taken me to new Depps in er...umm..pirating, yeah, that's it, pirating.
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partying...err, pirating
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Wow, this poem sucks.
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