'Sullivan the Poet'
"Verse - Perverse & Obverse.."

   "Welcome to the

 official web site of

 Sullivan the Poet"

Within this the 'official' web site you can not only

read about 'Sullivan the Poet' himself; but you can also read and, hopefully enjoy, some of the specially selected variety of poems from his currently available published poetry collections...

In addition: Sullivan's very latest poetic work, as it becomes available, will be published here in full on this, the 'Home' page of his site, for your approval and, we trust, your pleasure... Enjoy!

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Elegy.jpg

‘Elegy..’

 

Though I lay me down at the end of days,

are there no terrors skulking,

unseen and unbidden, in that dreadful abyss?

Lurking, waiting, wanting, dark and foreboding;

Impatient and ravenous for

this faithless and unwashed spirit

to go abroad that terrible darkness.

Or for my passing, prim pitiless gods

with lamps bidden high and bright;

To lure the gullible and the devoted

to their regretful and disappointing eternities.

Nor to compel them beg, faltering and fearful,

their wet legged and craven passages

into this last divine and fanciful confessional?

Or attends there naught but the endless, starless night,

tomb silent and terrible;

Save the ringing echo of the home wrought

and glibly counterfeit coins

thrown at the feet of a fearful faithful

by a pious and deceitful clergy?

 

For I have heathen lived and

as heathen, corrupt and un-annointed,

so shall I slip away;

And with the sweet infidel air

will I fill these aged lungs to breathe their last;

Once and last more to charge

this wicked old heart to

its thickly roaring crimson juices;

And sound strident one last defiant beat

of this work weary old war drum.

Let me go ignorant and unrepentant

and un-forgiven into that long last farewell.

Nor guide, nor light, nor salvation,

‘cept the frail and guttering candle

of a life, full and fecund lived,

to palely dim and shadow the way.

Let each virtue done bestow my frail light

a bare cut half inch of  fresh wick;

And each iniquity rob me cruel the full wick’ed inch!

For by the strength of that fragile light shall I be judged...

 

© Sullivan the Poet 2012