The Poets Pluck- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The Poets Plucker….. Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Here in my cold lonely bed I ponder my all
I have FEARS in SOLITUDE of being alone
DEJECTION of my love had pierced my heart…..yet
THE NIGHTINGALE sings lustily a cheerful tune
My consciousness behaves as EOLIAN HARP
as Coleridge poem suggests full of delusion
So through opaque glass my window I cannot see
FROST AT MIDNIGHT has now spoilt for me this vision
So with dejection, curl into a foetal ball
hiding In THIS LIME-TREE BOWER A PRISON MAKE
I await my fate, wondering will my heart heal
Will I from my ongoing pity…soon awake
penned 5 February 2017
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