Saturday, October 26, 2019

Frenten

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My Kingdom For A Room

Like a poem I lost in sleep
And would dearly love to write,
A thickly blurred and flickering form,
Lit by memory fond and bright,
Rises when my waking breath
Strokes my patient bedside wall
And clings about my tired limbs
Until my nighttime deigns to fall.
Neither like unwelcome bird,
Nor like cogs in baleful hum;
Matchless in its radiant ease,
As blessed child in lay humdrum;
Consecrated but in mirth;
But in exploring, corrupt;
With what urgent, raucous joy
Does it my idyll tales irrupt!

In numberless numbered days,
Steadfast in contrarian grace,
Into my sight and taste and touch
It spirited pride anew;
So if all the world believes
That lilies bloom when memory grieves
Must I repent my stubborn spring
That sprouts but far and few?
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