Eucharist
#12 of Poetry c.2019
A poem of melancholia, by melancholia, and for melancholia. Released in early 2019, re-released unchanged but with care. Enjoy.
Eucharist
Sun has set and gone, past dinner hours, sitting by the chapel lawn, surrounded by flowers.
Taking frames by faded pen, named for care, in ken of distant fen, deemed too rare.
Light has taken up flame, guided by glass, to settle on papered blame, shadows forced past.
Embraced by colours which beguile, all natural dyes; shaped with each careful smile, today's little lies.
Reaching for pity with ink, living through thought; dreaming of wine to drink, that Father brought.
Enchantment has come to die, where saints rest, where chance steals to buy, your very best.
Bells have rung for command, over darkened hills, waiting for Father's midnight band, and cheap thrills.
Last call for dull relief, before divine prayer; a monument to a thief, gasping for air.