Poem 103, Sonnet 49: Dead Poem by Samer Madbak

Forgive me, friend, if I should epilogue
Our little tale, and have my fervor twirled
To gravity, my senses firmly furled,
And calmness once again my spirit’s vogue…
Love cannot be my cordial dialogue;
The brook of passion who benignly purled
Erstwhile within my heart, in time, has curled
His blabbing banks and chose to disembogue
Into the cataract of charity…
Forgive me but I cannot force the rill
To alter, for your sake, his noble will
And reinstate his old identity…
The passion-stream is dead my friend, and we,
In this respect, must sever company!


Adelaide
March 12th 1994