The Chill
Good Gentleman, Good Lady, oh I wish that you could see –
There's sincere truth that comes with Civility,
A certain charm lies in my heart
Begging for yours to stay
Until tomorrow, for just another day.
Having parched my heart with burning scorn
Drier still like the Sahel, the Corn
Of my love cannot flourish,
In an Empty garden – fruitless
Are my efforts – unless collaborated with your prowess
For your secret utterance so sweet
Yet Devious, fell from the ivy tree
Strangling your ability
To love a soul (minus your own)
Hearing the magnitude of the fall -
For Hours I perched, alone; afraid
For your echoing Voice haunts me, above my grave
Slipping out and in
Those weak and crumbling shelves of terror
Heavily Stowed away – my mind is a Mirror
Crushed, shattered, splintered, broken –
Nothing can fill space left - the words unspoken
Misery ubiquitous, hopelessness lost
The Frosty whispers chill
Our Flame, hardened, brittle – still.
Copyright © JRFB 2012
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Submitted on May 06, 2015
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 50 sec read
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Quick analysis:
Scheme | A A X B B C C X D D X A A X X X X X E E F F X G G X |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 1,028 |
Words | 169 |
Stanzas | 26 |
Stanza Lengths | 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1 |
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"The Chill" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/86296/the-chill>.
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