Laughing Lions

Something very rough that may end up as part of a study in writing with purposeful style. I'd most appreciate knowing how forced this sounds, and what I can do to increase the complexity of the poem while writing.

A philosopher once stared into the void, and found it empty.

He named it freedom, this dread, and called

for Laughing Lions to leap with him

Into the abyss.

He trusted as he fell.

Just behind him were conquerors,

Enlivened by the silence, and able

To meet the darkness face to face and keep it on a leash.

I am no wizened kapok tree, nor have I seen as much

But it seems to me there may be no jungle kings trailing

just behind.

I have watched too many matted cubs, swarming ‘round in droves

They grin and mimick, and hide in the night- dark folds

They will never jump-- It is far too easy to sit in the branches, waiting,

And being watched.

The End

3 comments about this poem Feed