A Poets Elocution in Execution
One of the many things to plague a young poet
is their blind love. It haunts-taunts them daily.
In piercing words of love to weave so clearly
display one love, on one more blank page.
They chanced a smoke their last request
rotten cigarettes to pause their demise
their last meal a feast, rats devoured
Prisoners of their poetic words no more
to suffer no more the poet's verse of love.
Words pondered late at night to pass along
a kind word may have saved them. Stop them!
All rescue attempts failed a brief pause there be
on six-nine pages deep; they too bury themselves.
There one laid to rest life with a pen all about you.
Took your love with them, and claim its seduction
can you forgive your poet's word here, Angelica?
They write of elocution, your execution of love.
Their paper cuts never killed anyone or them.
A poet who loved words and loved too much
there to Angelica too bury in poetic-justice.
Now to hang on the gallows, the shadows
of broken hearts a paper doll of yourself.
One draft copy, to be your only witness
who dared to love you more than life!
Poem 61 © Thomas Collins McGowan:
Site "poet.us" February 15, 2004-May 1, 2021
