.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

Unto Our Fallen Muse

THROUGH THE USE OF THIS WEB-LOG, I HOPE TO ENCOURAGE THE DEVELOPMENT OF STYLE, EXPRESSION AND PERSPECTIVE THROUGH THE EXAMINATION AND DISCUSSION OF CREATIVE WRITING. ALL VISITORS, COMMENTS & CONTRIBUTIONS ARE MOST CERTAINLY WELCOME WITHIN THIS SPACE; SO PLEASE, WRITERS OF THE WORLD REJOICE, AND MAKE YOURSELVES AT HOME, THAT WE MAY SUMMARILY ENJOY THAT WHICH WILL INEVITABLY ENSUE.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

STILL THE POETIC IRONY REMAINS:

For Rhea:

I have nothing but my weariness
As I weakly wander: lost, afraid;
Searching for the hidden answers
To this deception I have made.

At last my vengeful shadow
Could no longer be contained,
As my grief and hate errupted
Both wild and unrestrained;

But measured 'gainst your beauty,
It ceased, and then refrained.

My vengeful shadow paused:
Repentant and ashamed,
Betraying my intentions,
It learned to love again ...

From the longing fear-filled cries
Of your streaming tear-filled eyes ...

Thus, renouncing wasteful wretchedness,
And forgetting all my woes,
I am healed by your forgiveness,
And the grace that it bestows.

Laurence "Valhenstrogg" Hay

posted by Valhenstrogg | Thursday, May 25, 2006

1 Comments:

Thus spake Blogger Valhenstrogg:

A meagre shred of malformed poetic irony, ravaged by the harsh demands of change and time; such pitiful remains of that which once I loved, rescued from the ashes, brought forward only as a dim reminder, of that which I once shared.

Thursday, June 01, 2006  

Post a Comment

<< Home