Monday, April 1, 2013

NaPoWriMo #1: Epitaph on an Artist

Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after.
He sought it in low-countries where men turned their head.
But when he met the beast, it would not yield.
So he wrestled with it until blood
Was wrung from his veins, until
Tears dripped down his face, and Defeat
Graciously accepted him.
Children stare at the scars on his body,
Eyes bright with wonder.

--April 1, 2013

Prompt: Use the first line of a famous poem to write your own poem.
Poem Used: "Epitaph on a Tyrant" by W.H. Auden

1 comment:

  1. I had a dream...
    A dream of a forgotten memory from what seemed like so long ago.
    A friend I once knew, whose life I disappeared from in a hazy fog.
    She did not know me well we met through a familiar friend.
    Know me she did not, but she entrusted me with a story of her's.
    Little did she know but her story changed my life, and I in turn became a writer.
    I miss my dear friend, and wonder where she has gone off too.
    Long do I wish to rekindle the flame of friendship.