Silver – stanza 11

Through the fifteenth century, they took
Turns dying, possessing twenty year old
Willful youth, took over their lives, transferred
Their fortunes, amassed skills and experience
And fell in love over and over again
Participating in history, social changes
Most decidedly in the arts where their
Influences continue on to this very day
Playing fast and loose, cavalier with life
Reckless in the knowledge they wouldn’t die
In any permanent, long lasting or metaphysical
Way, taking wild chances, provoking danger
Taking ridiculous, foolish risks and laughing
As death took its toll, reuniting again
A few years later in fresh, unspoiled form
And this is where we are again, the search
Malinov hunted for Silver and found her
Only to lose her, the process started again
He started by writing, publishing poems
Both bound to startle the usual crowd
And scream out in subtext to Silver
Using words and phrases that said,
“Listen up, Silver, it’s me, Malinov”
He hooked up with Razor, who found him
Very quickly, who published his poetry
And arranged poetry readings at bars
And coffee shops where artists hung out
His ear to the grapevine, listening for words
Of a woman with a meteoric rise in fame

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About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
This entry was posted in books, fiction, literature, novels, personal, poetry, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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