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Repentance of Time
Repentance of Time
My obsession is my passion for the words I do seek.
In glaring colors highlighted in orange and green.
Rashly brazen in denial of conscious thought.
For the consonants of all things now taught.
Madness has crept upon my pen and died within my soul.
Leaves forever rustle in the wind, as my spirit grows old within.
While time renders my words onto the deafening ears of naives.
As my soul lives in atonement bounded to an empty unmarked grave.
Titans of poetry ride the ebbs of walking waves upon demise.
The sunset's lowers through the hearts of true poets still alive.
As echoes of death from Scottish graves, whisper their names.
Calling works of Sir Walter Scott and Robert Burns known fame.
Rest now upon my words as I tire forevermore.
Never to pen another word, which I so dearly, adore.
To ride within the talking of winds and listen to the poets of time.
While in the glory of words written by those perfect in flow and rhyme.
Submitted on July 05, 2016
- 52 sec read
- 5 Views
|Scheme||AXXBB XXCX CXCX DDAA|
|Closest metre||Iambic heptameter|
|Stanza Lengths||5, 4, 4, 4|
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"Repentance of Time" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 30 Mar. 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/82984/repentance-of-time>.
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