slybard
slybard
Feb 06, 2012

To Dawn

Dawn- slayer of pretense, usher of youth-
you, born anew as passing season,
wield those luminous swords, sharp and uncouth,
and absolve ignorance of reason.
Are you not the mother of sweet knowledge?

Dawn – light of tunnels, well of Saharas-
You, of divine hue, alive in Dark’s death
when all that’s fair is stripped of myrrhs
And Life’s Eden is, fast as youth, but heath.
Are you not the promise that Hope is nigh?

—Mini-anthology: Hepatica—

About This Poem

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Not actively editing

About the Author

Region, Country: Kampala, Uganda, UGA

Favorite Poets: Jonathan Swift

More from this author

Comments

weirdelf

this still feels fresh and original.

wield those luminous swords, sharp [and] uncouth, [could you use another form of caesura to improve scansion and avoid repeated 'and'?]
and absolve ignorance of reason.

And Life’s Eden is, fast as youth, but heath. [do you mean health? heath seems incongruous]