Persona Poem:
I sit on this grave looking about Watching, Observing, Taking in every moment. I watch each action as if it were a movie. Every faction of these wanderers, To me, is a new realm of realities. The sigh of their breath slightly stirring their hairs Is a new chapter, a chance for a some other being One word or phrase or the lilt with which it is said Runs through me Enchanting me brain, mesmerizing my pen Time and place almost does not matter Whether with my beloved, eccentric, multicolored Lady Edwina Or nurturing the ego of the dubious vapid Sir Quentin. All are apparitions to be personified and built Within the framework of my mind In poems of rhyme or novels all mine. The radiantly gleaming sun ever flushing their cheeks A slight tear of a hem Or drapery hung perfectly wrong Everything, I capture and stow away in the pocket of my thoughts I let these moments ferment Get better with age Like the magnificent bottles Leslie would steal And even the English Rose, which I so fervently hate Serves a purpose in writing Waiting for the click of my typewriter To exist again in another world with the same essence of the face |