I
don’t feel blameless or innocent;
I
grumble and dispute, so much dirt
on
my glass that I should be called
Saul
of Tarnish. Little light passes
through
to penetrate or pierce;
I
can’t see enough even to cry
tears,
the gloom so thick that
I’m
unable to cry at all. It
grasps
with a strangling embrace;
grumble,
grumble, toil
and
trouble, I complain
while
others crumble.
I
hear a shout:
a kingdom
for a nail,
a
nail for a kingdom,
a
nail, and my thumb is swollen,
a
nail for theses on a door,
a
nail, and a man died.
This
poem is submitted for Open Link Night at dVersePoets. To see more poems, please visitthe site. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time.
Photograph by nuzrath nuzree via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
