The Greatness of Empire
Singularly inappropriate perhaps for a Monday morning, when we are all ready to attach a new week of work and challenges. The sun is shining, I am feeling pretty chipper on the whole, but there is always a part of me that responds anxiously to world news…
Once the spleen is vented out
When the ghosts are bed to rest
If the sorrow finds its match –
we shall desist.
With the seas sucked dry of ripples
Where secret forests live, unfold,
As each phrase falls on waxen ears –
We slacken, curled.
An attempt, a jealous grope this,
To woo the caverns of our mind.
Remote echo, no light to blind
The smouldering ruins of our bliss.
Marina Sofia – This is such a powerful reflection on what’s left when everything else is gone…
Intriguing poem! The spent-ness of after feels universal. I don’t need to know what the “before” was.
Thank you for a very insightful comment – that is exactly the effect I was hoping to achieve…
It won’t happen, remember: we escape that, at a price, but we did – hope keeps us going :-*
‘Hope springs eternal …’ a most reflective poem Marina …
Great poem – love the rhythm of this.