Jester's Lounge #3 | Bloody Quill

 

Bloody Quill

Dear poet, are you listening?

Cries of agony is at your door, knocking.

Final show is approaching, wear your mask,

It is time to welcome them, just before the dusk.

 

Dear poet, are you watching?

What kind of a game are you playing?

Your mouth speaks the heart, all blank,

Your heart feels a lot, yet you don’t act.

 

I see a shadow, creeping upon me,

The past of the hidden heart haunts me.

Locked away in a chest, I lost the feelings,

The monster approaches, a being of unfeeling.

 



Alas, the beacon of hope has faded,

Yet the fragment of hope remained.

Grab it with your hands pure as your soul,

And destroy the bells of doom whole!

 

 

The quill feeds upon my blood,

I can see the trace of every word,

The darkest of the blood has reappeared,

With every word, the author has smeared.

 

 

The quill feeds upon my blood,

Darkest of grins,  covers the light,

Betrayal of the pen is like a broken kite,

The child cries, the poet dies.

 

The quill writes with the blood,

An uneasy contract made out of a dark pact,

This is nothing but a confessing tract.

The hope, the bell and the contract,

They all belong to the imminent dark.

Neither of this is a part of a joyful act,

Echoes of the hope has a powerful impact,

The quill has been finally attacked.

With that, chains of love have been infracted.

Feelings, long lost, can finally reenact,

 And thus, quill of the poet will detract.

And thus... Jester's Lounge is no more. 

09(night time)-10.12.2019

Berke Oğuz YILMAZ

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