SENTINEL POETRY #28
Online Magazine Monthly -- March 2005
Editor:
Amatoritsero Ede

TATIANA PAHLEN

HOMAGE TO BYRON

When stuck on Byron's urging lines
to struggle ending heartfelt torture
between the ironies in rhymes
the burst of tears is beyond my conscience.
The chills on the spine, but not from drafts
the windows fixed and tightly shut.
The winters breathe beneath the heat
of callous tubes to warm my feet.
Lord Byron won't survive this frame
that petty space to spur a scribe,
where so insane or rather vain
I failed to spell a bold word, bribe.
A blurry past at times remains
the scattered segments of vanished fame:
Now scatters only rain
my arduous dwelling's not the same.
The moistened eyes enraged by words,
the page possessed by avid pupils
I'm fond of my pithy Lord,
The flamboyant - George Gordon!

<<<   >>>