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The Poet and The River
From John Clare where the river speaks
Voicing the murmurs of a fearful Styx
Where a soul damned to bear the glooms
Of life's torments and the mortal dooms
I hear your verse, poet of the lonely voice
Solitary drifter, roaming the stark solitude
I hear your lament from the first ever love
The star-crossed lover from the grievous blows
I see the burden weigh heavy on your heart
Like Atlas, carrying the heavens on his back
Forlorn and solely loitering in the vast plains
Heartless humans, Elysium within Nature's bed
I am—yet what I am, a man of water and dust;
Heavenly spirited and in this mortal mold cast:
I am the self-consumer of my prose and verse
Nothing, but arrogance and ignorance, i curse
Still is my river abundantly flowing with life
Restless motion for an never-ending poetic strife
Until the last drop of breath then i shall shed
And then lie forever peacefully, on eternal bed
Published 5th Mar 2024
Author's Note
From and To John Clare , the forgotten poet.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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7th Mar 2024 4:26pm
Thank You my friend Naajir for your warm presence here.
Very nice from my friend to leave your friendly mark on my page.....
Very nice from my friend to leave your friendly mark on my page.....
