Nick Winkworth
Inspiration Piece
Durus
He whispers – that the leopard still has spots
and the lion has its mane,
but the she-wolf can be found no more
among all who are the same.
Alone – that poet stands upon the precipice
of verse that plunged us all
past reefs of frozen currents
where all alike may dwell.
Obscured by unbelief, his shadow pines away
where night and day have all but gone.
In the city that no longer weeps
lie the cold-sober shades of self-pardon.
Yet, his song still haunts our foolish games
while fog enshrouds the wrong
and pop-lit fantasies
have tainted epic songs.
Scheming hunters and their gatherers
have grown eyes instead of hands
and hearts which reached for others
withdrew within again.
Yet he whispers – that the leopard still has spots
and the lion has its mane,
but the she-wolf can be found no more
among all who are the same.
Donna Kendall
Response
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One Comment
Great poem! You really created something epic here!