O, burst the fetters of horizons foul
That, of our plaited spirits, do pervade!
When we, my boy, are deaf to winter's howl,
Then, calmly, soundly, shall the wicked fade.
To waywardness, however, are we bound
Until we roam upon a latter day
Where resonates so thick and sweet a sound
As honey drips upon a dry decay.
A contest entry
- Looking For Some Good Rhymes by Exit-Stage-Right.
2450 points, ended May 25, 32 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me how to improve this poem and my writing, and thank-you! x
Comments
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Wow! This is really a great bit! I'm remiss to give it the gold cup because people will think I'm trying to be cheap with my points (the awards in this contest being proportional to a great degree on the poems' length.) So I could ding you down to silver for a missed apostrophe, but that seems juvenile. I -REALLY- like this poem. Damn! Why couldn't you have given me 50 more lines of this!
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I have read some of your other work and find it very good. This is also good, but I find, for me, some of the meaning of this poem seems to get lost in the regal language. It's probably my own failing than yours, I have a hard time with Shakespeare as well.
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My love for You is so great,
my heart melts for It 'til the dusk of day.
The night makes when It's away,
arbitrage, blues 'til day's dawn.
It beauty is great,
Wondering mind 'til It sees,
gaining is all I do,
While waiting for the moment, for It to say "I do."
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