From the cradle to the grave we toil,
While the demon watches with a smile,
From his citadel high in the sky,
This castigator of all evil,
Rises at Dusk to begin his day,
The smile he wears making us shiver,
Those who see him for what he is…
Like a thief he comes,
From the apothecary of Hell,
Bringing his potions and sleepless nights,
To take a draught from his flask is fatal,
And means fresh work for the mortician,
Who smiles as he views his handiwork
Lying prostrate in the casket,
Decorated with silver cherubim,
Chosen by those who profess such love…
Inamorata! He cries to no avail,
She can no longer answer,
Or be persuaded by his whispered lies…
Mea Culpa he knows despite the secrets,
That lies in his broken heart…
His nights are now sleepless,
And he builds her tombs of pyramids
To mark his love,
But they are only cold stone memories,
Of that which he once loved…
FANTASTIC, Reindeer! I could hear the Nile lapping at its banks, feel the desert's heart and loneliness, see the grand expansive vista of the horizon --- all in the single tear from a broken heart. This stanza is a jewel:
"His nights are now sleepless,
And he builds her tombs of pyramids
To mark his love,
But they are only cold stone memories,
Of that which he once loved…"
His nights are now sleepless,
And he builds her tombs of pyramids
To mark his love,
But they are only cold stone memories,
Of that which he once loved…
The deep-dive literary meditations presented as stories, poems, and essays in The American Poet Who Went Home Again, A Mosaic of My Soul at Work, have captivated and inspired readers ever since its first paperback publication in 2008.
Major League ballplayer Justin Moore is kidnapped from his own ballpark and transported to a foreign land. It might take high-level international negotiations to free him. Or maybe he will take matters into his own hands.
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"His nights are now sleepless,
And he builds her tombs of pyramids
To mark his love,
But they are only cold stone memories,
Of that which he once loved…"
Awesome write!
~Chrissie
His nights are now sleepless,
And he builds her tombs of pyramids
To mark his love,
But they are only cold stone memories,
Of that which he once loved…
BRAVO!!
~Jackie~
Thanks,
Teresa Emilie
This gave me the chills...
Outstanding write...
Trixie :)
Thanks for sharing........
Taylor
I have met "him" So perfect the description.
~Jen
Love Tinka