My country has stopped winning. Started its
Dying – with probated weight, a regal
Waste – inside my head. Dethroned, without wits,
I prepare to abandon its last hall.
I am the Queen of Devastation, clothed
By rags recrimination. Flower-crowned,
I fall onto the guillotine, betrothed
To nothing but fantasies, falsely bound.
My castle of thought has tumbled. Turrets
Tremble with mental fatigue, my banner,
Self-tattered, faded … to dull green. The debts
Of queens need to be paid in some manner.
So, as I jump from my highest tower,
I set ablaze my funeral pyre.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 9/12/04
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And you, dear Erin, are a marvelous representative of that talent.
Even in the sadness, the resignation, of this skillfully crafted poem,
shines the beauty of such lines:
My castle of thought has tumbled. Turrets
Tremble with mental fatigue, my banner,
Self-tattered, faded … to dull green. The debts
Of queens need to be paid in some manner.
In admiration...gene.
Reindeer
Feel the sadness and pain resonating throughout this discourse , Erin
Time to start the fightback eh ...
Peter
powerful poetry!
Chanti
hugs, Safi
Love Tinka
ouch this one hurts--are you okay? if you want to talk, message board me (PRIVATE)
excellent dark write
(((HUGS))) and love, karla. :(
Stay away from the high jump theories though, please!;-)
WE need your brilliance around here!