[to Edgar Allen Poe and those who loved him]
mirage like from a distance stray
the figments of a happier day
of kingdoms, kingdoms washed away.
how maple red the skies appeared above the castles
always drear your own heart knocking at the doors
walled in itself and evermore
all glistening sails with the Adored
and never returning
how scorned by critics who can name
who pierced a troubled heart in shame.
around the lintels of their fame
may nothing shine forevermore
till Time and all its angels show
above the bitter flying snows
intemperate as his repose
a presence deepened known as Poe and
mystic organs swell commemorative:
a grieving love enshrine.
mary angela douglas 14 october 2014
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