Poem for Day 278 – 20151006
I'll have passion but no love,
tenderness without cherishment,
It seems strange I know,
but I'll be happy with no enjoyment.
The masses are awfully pretty,
but the people hold no beauty.
I'll see the excellence of all,
but hold no admiration of man.
I'm surrounded by communities,
and the cities are no more.
Possessions are all I have,
no wealth, no gold, just food.
My muse is no more, art is gone.
No more poetry, only sonnets.
My verses cease to be,
replaced by idyllic ballads.
Look to the madness,
killers that don't murder,
the loonies are not crazy,
this is the dwelling in which I settled.
See the darkness with no light,
with utter tenderness without joy.
Perhaps you see where I occupy,
this terra of grammar's drollery.
© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.