Between Greed and the Mask (poem)
Where the -@!# did my muse go?
Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.
In the darkness when man does sleep
and a pallid moon is the only company he keeps
the waves are calm, the silence deep,
but in his dreaming heart is only greed.
Our candles burn low crying tears of soft wax
but we rejoice for it is our time at last.
Time for feathered guardians and ancient pacts,
tonight we'll make them see beyond the mask.
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Author's prompt text:
Ekphrastic poem
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- Published 4 years ago.
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Robert Quick
Based on this image https://www.artstation.com/artwork/3olAdY?fbclid=IwAR1rDmE0fHisYLQJjt13-0DcBhNuMCxFwaaPviLmiMBepA0eBPCuuzFfjA