Poem: Sonnet On Despair

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Caught in the pall of joy’s costly shadow,

Words reversed and erased, blot for blot,

Famine reigns over a once fertile meadow,

And the poet, delight-lorn, is densely distraught,

He feels hands where hands no longer linger;

Dreams are the places where the future rehearses,

Prophecies choke the larynx of the prophetic singer,

The nightmare of the present stored in history’s verses,

You start a fire – but you cannot start a fire –

Pain’s perfume pulses in smoking ashes

To be desired – and to feel desire –

All the caresses turn into rashes

When hope’s illuminated manuscript, seductively faded,

Leaves the child’s innocent heart, corrupted and jaded

 

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