LIFE AND ART
POETRY
Not not when the fever of blood still stays strong,
The heart throbs loud, the eyes are veiled, no less
With passion than with tears, the muse shall bless
The poet to help and and soothe with song
Not then she bids his trembling lips express
The aching gladness, the voluptuous pain.
Life is his poem then; flesh, sense and brain
One full-stringed lyre attuned to happiness.
But when the dream is done, the pulses fail,
The day's illusion, with the day's sunset,
He, lonely in the twilight, sees the pale
Divine peacemaker, featured like regret
Enter and clasp his hand and kiss his brow
then his lips hope to sing... as mine does.
Notes
This is my entry for day 88 of a 100 days of poetry challenge organized by @d-pend in association with the Steemit school on discord which you can join here;
https://discordapp.com/invite/hyfYQ9P
Hello! I find your post valuable for the wafrica community! Thanks for the great post! @wafrica is now following you! ALWAYs follow @wafrica and use the wafrica tag!
Interesting piece. The tempo and intensity of the poem blends beautifully amongst the stanzas starting strong and ending on a cool note.
I thought this was an iteration of the Shakespearean sonnet until I got to the end. Your last two lines didn't rhyme unless, of course, that isn't what you were going for...
Hi friend, thank you for reading and yes I wasn't going for that, I just wanted to make it different from the norms.
Aye. Read you loud and clear. Thanks for the clarification. More grease to your elbow, friend.