In the long run I knew
I would
Come back to you, my rock,
My stone, my cradle few
Who should
Do that witch still in stock
Coat of mourning eschewed
For good
Of what intrude I lewd
As crude
As a pillar gone to
Ozymandeus hell
Misted
Like a ghost that I missed,
Like a ghost that eye missed,
Like the most your I missed,
Hooded, cloaked and set
In avert as that rock
Become but a stock sight
For later, and inner,
And laughterful delight,
Fore later, and in her,
And laugh, to fool, delight.
Author notes
1: Drawn of the painting to be found at http://fenrizulf.deviantart.com/art/Banshee-s-Mourning-46231485 .
2: "Ozymandeus", by PBShelley.
A contest entry
- Dark Picture Prompts by Miss Macabre.
550 points, ended September 23, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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