Spinal Tap
An Ekphrastic Sonnet
So many spines ache for your warm caress
That of a slim, yellow novel has won
For the nonce, but I suspect your largesse
Is greater still; shall we two have some fun?
Imagine my novel, along with me:
Is it a piquant, bodice-ripping yarn?
A tale of pristine, noble chivalry?
A plunge into a remote, icy tarn?
For you, I will conjure a thousand worlds
And people them with princes or paupers;
A galaxy of worlds woven from words
Will teem for you with heroes and monsters
So long as you will read what I have writ
I will pour out my blood to complete it
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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I want to grow
I want to grow and I’m going to grow. I’m not going to be this version of myself anymore and you won’t know who I become. You won’t talk to her, or be by her side as she goes through life— you won’t know her. Her heart won’t even remember the small moments that’ve clung to it for so long. I’ll watch her embrace a new life that has nothing to do with you, and there won’t be a space waiting like there has been for far too long.
By Aathavi Thanges5 days ago in Psyche
Comments (3)
And I would read that blood like reading tea leaves hehehe. Loved your sonnet!
I love those first two lines so much. I'm not sure I like the way Ramon names his paintings though. Decadent? Reclining exhausted, more like. And still looking to read? This could be a picture of myself. I hope that book is "How to piss off people with seemingly decadent behaviour Volume 1".
Love this