8jul1822~ Livorno, Italy (Sonnet) Poem by Aaron Graham

The Olive Branch grew without winter’s wisdom

Though Plow-shear fingers strokd’ dead-earth: bulging.

Throbd’ throngs, outcast of heaven, twice lonesome

Absence: pangs soles, each day disaffecting

Follow hangd -man past Dartmore, past Widecombe

Poets pen portends sibylline scripts. of Nine

Six pyred and lost. Tacticus' cost-

Dans: Le jeste de prince D’Aquintaine.


Prodigals return home to die: end creation

Not reflect ship-wreck-ruins, which fill Styx’s shore

You lack faith, pray; I’ll give you no more

You, don’t dare die death’s deaf duration

I hear of light in silence, no salvation

He still do police in different voices.