Spectral Verses, III, Youthful combs of fire
My writings plague solemn desires
dispatched within my grief,
waiting for my souls revival
as I sense the failing beams
above my head stars once bold,
now dying, fade in disbelief
yearning youthful combs of fire
extinguished while I sleep.
My words of love coldly covered
by the graveyards mossy dirt
embracing lips of favored lovers
as we lain in soft caress;
bites my savage tongues expression
has now sanctified the hurt
in my bed of weeds and clover
where no soft cheek warms my breast.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
from a dear friend and trusted (good) pirate. They were written
from my humble perspective of Lord Bryon speaking from the grave.
Comments about this poem (Spectral Verses, III, Youthful combs of fire by Captain Cur )
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