Reginald Scott Poems

Wooden helm minotaur horn
Extravagant materials made from thoughts
Fire swords and shields of protection
Always aligned with the wooden perfection
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The ghost whispering deathly mourning
For its life bound to hatred unborn
Its lonely being the fear it inspires; an object forlorn
Screams taunting the death it has escaped; a thin life torn
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Lightining and wind strikes their force from asunder
Gradually rising to reach their brethren thunder
But the whims of the world conjugate into rain
And brings hail and sleet succumbed to never ending pain
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The spring's storm of pollen
Turned my allergies into monsters that
Prescribes assistance in irritating
My sensitive insight my eye a gaming table
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New couple as old couple but not
This couple which is no couple
As supple as the one before
They turn the light of old anew
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Forgotten postage stamp
I sent my box away
I released myself from ingratitude about yesterday
Thats's when i left my box; so lonely and unwanted
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