You would not
let me write.
You do not
support it.
You do not
understand it.
You would steal
time with moods
childish tantrums
endless cups of coffee
cigarettes smoked
like obsolete
steam train.
You would
be my chain and ball
I Prometheus Bound
heart eaten out
day and night
by craven
of cowling despair
siren singing
plied pity song
to founder
lost souls
upon destruction rocks
counting skeletons
former adventurers.
Who journeyed
upon odyssey
culminating
upon these fed
isle wreck shores
rib caged despair
broken dreams?
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in February 2010 on the 16.2.2010.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem