David McLansky

Veteran Poet - 1,194 Points (5/24/1944 / New York City)

ironic Nights - Poem by David McLansky

Living in the bubble of her hate
I twist about incredulous of my Fate;
I, who fed on love like breathing air,
Should live imprisoned in this Ogress' lair;

I, who counted sweetest all things gentle:
Refinement, wit, and goodness elemental,
Savoring all that taste and grace do bring,
Should live within this coarse and vulgar ring;

I, a creaturre bred for temperate weather,
Delighted by the softest feeling pleasure,
Confounded by a hate that poisons souls;
Enduring through the nights as they unfold.

Topic(s) of this poem: love

Poet's Notes about The Poem

From Old Adam in his Eden

Comments about ironic Nights by David McLansky

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

Poem Submitted: Monday, May 12, 2014

Poem Edited: Monday, May 12, 2014

[Hata Bildir]