Scribe me a sonnet, Word Smyth.
Not so saccharine as to cause upset.Write that it resolve restlessness
upon the breast of contentment.
Fashion it in reasonable meter, Word Smyth.
Give it cadence
like unto the hooves of a horse
sparking upon midnight cobble stone.
Light your words in candle glow, Word Smyth.
Avoid the harsh, brazen sun of noontide.
Turn from the bright glare of industry
and the tawdry illumination of taverns.
Cast your vocabulary to the winds, Word Smyth
that it travel unto my senses
in the linen-breeze of country
scented in lilac and bluebells.
Add to your poetry the whelm of your voice, Word Smyth
undo the bondage of duty
and permit concord
that I may recline in peace tonight.
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment