Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.


Reclining over the chandelier,
He sold his innocence for a glass of wine.
His pendent kept her heart to his,
And clasped it forever like a gold casket.

A little lie can hurt a bit;
He buried her in a diamond box,
And took it out with him to sea
On the first day that he was born.

He smelled of sludge and scented roses,
Dined of fish and crustaceans,
But when he'd wished himself to die,
He'd set his eyes upon a star

And fly like a shrieking bird of night;
Living shaft of mystery,
To steal the silver from a cloud
Before it broke and fell as rain.

He had no name that wasn't hers,
He had no life she didn't live.
He had no bearing, no remembering
That did not utterly lead to her.

Reclining under the sailing moon,
He rented his soul for a sugar cube,
All his clothes were scally plates
Of diamonds he picked up from her bed.

A little truth can heal a wound
Or bend the flow of destiny:
He whispers her name throughout the night,
On the last day since he was born.

He smelled her scent, then he relapsed
Into a fit of hysteria.
He could not calm himself in death.
He could not die. She would not let.

His mind was black, his eyes were sore,
His heart was bleeding, mouth was sour.
His body burned itself to ruin.
His spine would lash against its cage.

He sped through Heaven, then to Hell;
He flew the skies and swam the seas.
He spoke of things that cannot be,
For he had loved unworthily.

He took the reins and shook the bed.
He killed the nurses violently.
He sped into the night's embrace.
Then all was quiet. He was gone.

Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
Poem I wrote on the fly. Try finding meaning in it as a whole, not line by line.
Editing stage: 


The funny thing about this poem is, I chose the title because I thought it somehow 'fit' the poem. I later did a google on the name and with a little squeezing here and there, it just might be right.

I avoided the "glass of wine" because I thought it was a bit cliche. It seems I was somehow wrong. Yes, "glass of wine" does fit the mood of the poem.

For the repetitions, well, ...I'll see what I can do with them. I intentionally kept them so the poem feels a bit "insane". Truth is, the man was kept in an asylum before he fled.

I'm glad you enjoyed it.

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

author comment
(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.