Figment of A Fever

My lady, inch closer,

Send my heart a runner;

Perplex the shire of my bones…

No more;

 

Tawdry thou art nought,

Beheld myne fire, I besought;

Of thine needy desire,

Thou hast conquered my will;

 

My lady, upon me bestow,

Thine liquescent amore!

Thine quim…. Lips drip of fervor,

Byrgan of myne brimstone sawl!

 

Museful scourging thoghts,

Swelling forms of thine embrace,

The rupture of myne countenance!
Myne debt unto freewill, ye hast slain!

 

Turn back! Turn back!

Return to myne hand!

Hast ye nought heard?

Thou hast bereft me myne faith!

 

Fly ye! Come back to myne land!

My grounds hast reasoned for schisms!

Intimately, thou hast wrought myne sanctuary!

Intimately… thou hast formed myne Lyfe of Mecca.

 

 

 

-Leah

Reviews

[J.R.H.]

Loved reading this. This is not an easy style to write in and you did so wonderfully.

Thanks for the read.

[Leslie Philibert]

Good write in the style of the metaphysical poets, echoes of John Donne

[Whiskurz]

I really liked this.....Great style.....Whisk