Poor Poet's Scroll

"No sword
Of wrath her right arm whirl'd, [6]
But one poor poet's scroll, and with 'his' word
She shook the world." - Tennyson, 'The Poet'

I may not shake the world, but I do believe in the power of words.


8. Simplicity

The simplicity of a cloud – raged day.

No breath of wind to rattle the spindly branches.

The bird sings yet, but a constant little chirp,

the distant hum of mechanical monsters in the distance.


A streak of watery grey on an artist’s canvas,

the hue of  the fields lie forlornly underfoot.

Dull, simple browns and greens,

no myriad of umber and emerald.


The sun has turned its back for this day,

hardly discernible through cotton wisps.

No warmth of orange, or gold,

a blinding, white retina


Such a dismal, lifeless day

crushes the spirits, installs grief

the sun has not forgotten.

Tomorrow it will shine.

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