One Night Of A Tempest's Ire

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Poetry
Another poem to be ignored...

Submitted: October 29, 2018

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Submitted: October 29, 2018

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I rose one night of a tempest's ire,

Wind in the trees, a raging fire,

And took to the streets for my heart's desire,

Certain that tempest was yours.

 

It led me to a stately queen,

Upon her throne since nineteen-nineteen,

Gables furled as brows gone mean,

I pressed forth to her doors.

 

The rooms lay quiet as pre-dawn mists,

Or places of lovers' cozy trysts,

Sharing kisses by light unkissed,

But no less self-assured.

 

And to the basement door I crept,

And at the basement door I wept,

In memory of times we kept,

The happy places where we stepped,

The chambers where we loved and slept,

Loving, loving, ill adept,

Without the wisdom to accept,

Each other's heart, each other's theft.

 

The basement door came open slow,

Inviting me toward places low,

Places I could never know,

I lit a brazen stick.

 

Blackness feared its fitful flame,

As a tiger would the chair to tame,

Whilst I descended in my shame,

You lay 'neath your murderer's pick.

 

And as my foot did touch the earth,

I seemed to hear you in your dearth,

Cry out to me for love's rebirth,

And snuff that murderer's wick.

 

--Tag Cavello, 2018


© Copyright 2018 Tag Cavello. All rights reserved.

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