A Month with Yeats: Day Nineteen

from ‘The Valley of the Black Pig’.

‘We who still labour by the cromlech on the shore,
The grey cairn on the hill, when day sinks drowned in dew,
Being weary of the world’s empires, bow down to you,
Master of the still stars and of the flaming door.’—W.B. Yeats

dscovrepicmoontransitfull

As we relish the thought of the unknown
Fly me to the moon and shimmy with stars
Try to stab the sword into the stone

Strap the monkey like some avatars
Kiss the crime goodbye and merge with the flow
Hurtle ourselves to the cries of centaurs

As we dream of stars and their afterglow
The flame of the sun some distant away
I call your name and bounce back like echo

Gaseous layers to form some nebulae
Swirling dust clouds that’s something to observe
Left in an island like some castaway

The sting of betrayal I don’t deserve
Chop the happiness and the trust I gave
And to think I gave him all, what a nerve

What’s left for me to do is to be brave
And continue with my own repertoires
I can’t be in his memory a slave

As I walk the shore on this cloudy day
I glided out to the sea andante
As we relish the thought of the unknown
Try to stab the sword into the stone*

(c) ladyleemanila 2017

* Lauranelle

img_1040

For: A Month with Yeats: Day Nineteen, Wordle 326 Nov 19 by brenda warren , Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #19

mm banner

3 Comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s