Poetry in Motion:

Every once in a while I will publish a poem to frame my emotions into some perspective, give an ode to curs’d life, and/or assert my human face. They may get dark, but I do welcome comments that will help me understand my life within them.

This is my attempt at the poetic form Chant.

Ode to this Curs’d Verse

Woe is me, an ode to this curs’d verse.

As my soul again arrests my senses, I say:
Woe is me, an ode to this curs’d verse.

Troubled amid a tempestuous void, I sway;
Woe is me, an ode to this curs’d verse.

And while I battle to find some peace, implied is:
Woe is me, an ode to this curs’d verse.

For impassioned aplomb would do—so let it out!
Woe is me, an ode to this curs’d verse.

And if in it I found no semblance, then avow:
Woe is me, an ode to this curs’d verse.

For I have scoured deep, where soundless shadows scream—
Woe is me! An ode to this curs’d verse;

For I have scoured low, beneath the intrepid dreams, in dullness detailed—
Woe…is…me, an ode to this curs’d verse.

And as chanting tears this query dampens, I cry:
Woe—is me. An ode to this curs’d verse;

Those timbres forever plead for forgotten faith;
Woe is me, an ode to this curs’d verse.

And if so I drown in sorrow, my soul be damned!
Woe is me, an ode to this curs’d verse.

Because loneliness remembers what happiness forgets.
Woe is me, an ode…to this curs’d verse.

Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash