Poetry

Sunday, 27 March 2022

Chances of

 I saw the Romans in their tower

I saw the holy ones who cower

And monsters under beds are sworn

To be in death what they weren't when born

And choosing life and spirit breath

The doors of reason's consciousness

Where tides are torn

On the seas high cliffs

Where land meets storm

As lovers' lips kiss

And broken on the wheel of chance

The plague is sworn

Unreal death-dance

To chew the corn

And spit romance

Under forlorn lover's glance


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