And thinking of what might be
After the sea-bed old and gray,
Thou speak it but thy words to me
Were thin as the air I heard them nay,
Beneath the grove lay naked bone
Oblivion of history be-witch by the air
Of night and day knock like skeleton
Creeping to earth the very poets’ nightmare
In-flesh vision that is like a bow dries
Hunt for cases strike the rotten breast
And up-rooted the idle sea-weed carelessly,
Or hear it in some dreary cavern chest
The filthiest hand of either sex
Of amber vanity veil or not, still can vex
Note:
(Cagayan de Oro City, Philippines 2005)
Jordan Legaspi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/iron-rose/
