Wednesday, October 10, 2007

A Poem for a Poet

Two faced god of night and day,
Hot breath, foul corpse, mocking fear,
Corruption, skull, grinning from ear to ear.
Barren desert land beyond a boatless quay.

You I know, I know so well, I know,
I know, I name a thousand ways,
And each name its own annointed tome,
A great new novel or a novel poem,
But each is all the same

The same great devil within each thought,
The same wraiths in each inkblot,
The same fingers split between the rocks,
The same last gasp beneath the waves
As I am dragged into that liquid grave.

This I know, I know I know, I know.
It's all I hear, it's all I see,
The steady beat of tuneless drums,
The drums that call, I come, I come!
Fly far away from me.


Xavier Martel said...

Dark indeed are the thoughts expressed on Sterquilinium.

I really enjoyed this poem, and it is not an insult to say that the final stanza reminds me of the "War March of the Ents" from LOTR, which I will post in response...

Miguel Cuthbert said...

I think I could have done better, but this might be the first cut at something.