Captain Cur (England)
Spectral Verses, III, Youthful combs of fire
My writings plague solemn desires
dispatched within my grief,
waiting for my souls revival
as I sense the failing beams
above my head stars once bold,
now dying, fade in disbelief
yearning youthful combs of fire
extinguished while I sleep.
My words of love coldly covered
by the graveyards mossy dirt
embracing lips of favored lovers
as we lain in soft caress;
bites my savage tongues expression
has now sanctified the hurt
in my bed of weeds and clover
where no soft cheek warms my breast.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
from a dear friend and trusted (good) pirate. They were written
from my humble perspective of Lord Bryon speaking from the grave.