Poem: Do I But Dream

As the world fern droops its fronds and
the red musk wax tree gently burns,
three clouden oak grow thick and strong;
old woodstide rolls and seasons turn.
White skyfish soft and sweetly sing,
a seacrow croaks his wat’ry call,
last sandwhale moans and stirs her wings,
swampleopard lurks, baleful, sees all.
Steadfast and seeking (sought) to no avail,
teaching and taught how to deceive, disguise.
Do I but dream this land fragile, pale,
or, rock solid awaking, lift my eyes?

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About Shawna Jacques

All posts subject to change without notice.

Posted on 2011/12/14, in poem fit, Poetry, Poetry Forms, Structured - Miscellaneous and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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