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Sympathybecause Hamlet is a set text for study
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2027I dreamt I wrote the Master Work An epic tale of hearts and blood And in this epic tale I wrote My death2027
The storm is nigh-
We struggle always Against each other’s struggling wills Plant our feet and spears firm in the sand To weather out our tides But why?
They talk of tortellini and hanging gardens But overlook the end of the world
And then the words, the perfect words of God They fade away into the heartless ether Until what remains Just shade Less memory
The intercom stammers out a half-comma
by ~captainofnothing
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In ParisIn Paris, we became a silent film.In Paris
Cigarette smoke wafts between lives in bars and rafters hung low on lantern glow.
Tar and wine and burning francs lick envelopes of bygone epistles.
In the booth, a boy forgets to change the reel.
Final frames flick, black to dusty.
En français:
A Paris, Nous sommes devenu cinéma muet.
La fumée de cigarette flotte entre les vies dans les bars et les chevrons accrochés à la faible lueur de la lanterne.
Goud
by =bekkia
:-lby `kris-wilson
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Where have all the poets gone?
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Where have all the poets gone?
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