Melancholetta

An Elegy to Everyday Poetry by Anon

An elegy to my everyday poetry

Take birth, my songs, at the break of day
Conceived and nurtured, with the streaks of grey
Soft-coloured, tender-voiced and waxen touched,
In a realising reverie, they drown me bewitched.
Matures them to its music, the mirthful midday,
Surge they forward, to rage against and flay
The monstrous murals off those rock-hardened hearts.

Just to chafe their petric faces and fall like darts.

Fall like warriors, my brave little songs,
To the melancholic twilight and to the falling sun.
Words and phrases plucked out, dismembered
Senses squeezed out, like blood from corpses
Die not they, the dashing death deserved
Burnt out, cause-dried, orphaned to the wind
They shrivel to pieces, powdered to the ground.

Soft melodies! Grave chants! Unsung songs!
My everyday poetry! Such you are! Such is poetry!

Anon

posted by Dileepan @ 7:37 PM