deepundergroundpoetry.com
Solemnity
Of hated rogue and uneven gait,
do I pen this verse.
Speak O Muse of solemn state,
and of something shaking-terse.
Shift that twisted skein away from quaking fear,
from shattered hill and lonely glen.
Towards a state like steadfast mirror
perhaps in countenance less lonely then.
Perhaps less lonely then.
do I pen this verse.
Speak O Muse of solemn state,
and of something shaking-terse.
Shift that twisted skein away from quaking fear,
from shattered hill and lonely glen.
Towards a state like steadfast mirror
perhaps in countenance less lonely then.
Perhaps less lonely then.
Published 7th Sep 2017
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