She floats in a dream,
Before she sinks under,
Carrying in her folds,
The dying cries of the Soldiers,..
Sure, the pose was a little hackneyed,
But she put a world of weariness into the
tommorrows,
And She hit that old dusty death with an ominous flare,
And left the regicide slain upon the thoughts,
In a wish of unpleasant droughts,
To make some sense of Sister Agnes's Sermon,
Slashing the cross-eyed magician's vermont,
A medley of Shakespeare's greatest monologues,,or as he put it,,
A lifetime supply of wisdom in twenty-two minutes,
Wearing the beard of a Bolshevik and a dagger in her belt, she would lift her gaze
slowly from the footlights in search of that realm of sublime ideas located somewhere in the upper right-hand corner of the balcony, and thence wouldst commence:
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks...and Once more unto the breach, dear friends...and O reason not the need! Shakespeare's play,,(Spoken by Romeo),
In a simple say, Her academy was the thoroughfare, Her primer experience, and
Her instructor, the fickle finger of fate,
with a nicest stab of writings with an aromatic coffee.☕
She made a restless poetry, a theme poetry from Shakespeare's Help..☕
#WritcoPoemPrompt28

© Mishra Poonam