POETRY
Posted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 3:12 am
Glimpsed in the Mirror of Dreams, by Charles Carreon
Doing battle with you a thousand times ...
Damnable maiden,
Your excuse is youth,
But the bitterness remains.
No quarter ever given
in this game ...
True bloodsport
if there ever was
such a thing ...
After love,
The stalking,
The hunting,
The heart-destroying,
The burning,
The feast.
To compare with
Your eyes,
Wolves on a winter
Night would seem warm.
Now darkness falls
And I perceive
A grimmer silhouette,
A trick of light,
A shadow here,
But no there's something yet,
An intimation,
Dim and drear
Of purpose strangely set,
A chill, a subtle
Taste of fear
That good minds
Will forget.
Doing battle with you a thousand times ...
Damnable maiden,
Your excuse is youth,
But the bitterness remains.
No quarter ever given
in this game ...
True bloodsport
if there ever was
such a thing ...
After love,
The stalking,
The hunting,
The heart-destroying,
The burning,
The feast.
To compare with
Your eyes,
Wolves on a winter
Night would seem warm.
Now darkness falls
And I perceive
A grimmer silhouette,
A trick of light,
A shadow here,
But no there's something yet,
An intimation,
Dim and drear
Of purpose strangely set,
A chill, a subtle
Taste of fear
That good minds
Will forget.