- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Strident Mesmer
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“The Strident Mesmer”
Wind powered life so engulfed upon the call,
of the supple feathers of the sky born.
The crash cascade voices, leaves in the boughs,
pray for an angels caress.
I label our sympathy for a precious heart,
of the one I cannot attest.
Yet somehow, I stand against,
the weight of your blasphemous scorn.
And the pageant, as well as its display,
makes us mutable to the push.
Arched to the pillories and high away pastures,
the laborer’s wench wears gilded sunglasses.
Isaiah calls over the children of laughter,
and echoes the height of the collected masses.
And while the sun beats down,
the high arch of silent sheep shadows the weary hush.
The Mystery Valiant
11-21-2001
- COMMENTS
Anonymousalmost 18 years agoI enjoyed reading this, TMV. It felt like a cross between Poe and Blake with a hint of Lovecraft.
I loved that opening, neat-o. Good atmosphere and imagery.
Mentioned in today's new poem reviews.
