Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
ormondPoems
On that western isle, bathed in gold- Drenching sun, my only, giddy love, Weaved a daisy chain and crowned Herself, above the clouds and purple- Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow- Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching In fealty, round her red, reign of crown, Soon, after new mornings impromptu Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate, The inevitable nights of overthrowing And fade of love's noble, corona light. Were I shaper of dream, I would build A grand labyrinthian castle of granite Stone to contain that day—  I would Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting Time, the mute corruption of sorrows Waking.
0
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
Princess of Aran
On that western isle, bathed in gold- Drenching sun, my only, giddy love, Weaved a daisy chain and crowned Herself, above the clouds and purple- Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow- Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching In fealty, round her red, reign of crown, Soon, after new mornings impromptu Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate, The inevitable nights of overthrowing And fade of love's noble, corona light. Were I shaper of dream, I would build A grand labyrinthian castle of granite Stone to contain that day—  I would Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting Time, the mute corruption of sorrows Waking.
#love
ormond
Written by
ormond
Irish
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem