Mark Pedersen
Mark Pedersen Poems
In slumber now and thence to dream
of space-time's stirred and curving sweep,
where stellar furies set agleam
the velvet thrall of endless deep.
...
Alone and left to contemplate,
had I a pair of wings,
I'd fly away and search the world
for the peace of wild things.
...
The Best Poem Of Mark Pedersen
Vincent
July 29,1890
Colored daubs and swatches
crave artist's practiced hand.
Justice, nearly blind, yet watches—
unwrought art upon a stand.
Regard the brushes in a row—
the palettes and the sponges.
Genius maimed by status quo,
vain a hope that fate expunges.
Guttered myriad lifelong dreams—
in desperate ruination.
Fading now the muffled screams
of self-inflicted termination.
Time Passes
Abruptly then adoring praise—
contrived their sudden expertise.
Rude cabal who would appraise—
byzantine their guileful sleaze.
Each masterpiece a servant
of craven yearn and greed.
Bang the gavel, swift and fervent;
sate purveyors' inveterate need.
Justice now is truly blind;
vanished those She would impute.
His final piece is left unsigned;
and undisclosed, for now She's mute.
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4/27/2024 1:40:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
