A talon load from halcyon to bring me peace all schemes evade.
The heart of folly, obstinately beating, bleeding at my feet.
A final stomp could flatten it--once pending vision is concrete.
The doldrums love to enervate, reduce potential tools men have
My thoughts are weak. An imbecile could conquer feat I won't complete.
I'm not compleat, competing with one normal day can mean retreat.
A bastard bound to poetaster, master tandem failure-flecked.
Two parts of me botch everything, finesse neglected like respect.
The doldrums love to enervate, reduce potential tools men have
For hacking through an obstacle. A knife-hand, half a prayer, must halve.
My thoughts are weak. An imbecile could conquer feat I won't complete.
I'm not compleat, competing with one normal day can mean retreat.
A bastard bound to poetaster, master tandem failure-flecked.
Two parts of me botch everything, finesse neglected like respect.
Offensive lack of faculty permitting ooze of useless tone.
Such speech won't leave me ostracized--enablers won't leave kith alone.
This reads like a lost poem of De Vere. It would sound great coming out of the mouth of the late, great Orson Welles, don't you think?
ReplyDeleteonce again, stunning wordplay which ironically offsets the self-deprecating tone.loved it!
ReplyDeleteExcellent wordplay. Saved you on favourites a few days ago (to return to and read) but lost you until now!
ReplyDeleteNow know why I 'saved' you!
Anna :o]