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Benjamin Crosby Benjamin Crosby
Recommendations: 12

The Pale-Eyed Stranger in the Soul


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This is another fixed verse poem in Terza Rima form.  It's one of my favorite kinds because of the rhythm it demands and also the refrain gives it an almost musical personality.  Again, my first try at writing one.


He lights the fuse stampeding through the blood
Whose rowdy, crimson steeds stir up a bolt
That aims to strike the heart's evolving bud.


When true sensations bloom his spies revolt
And doom the golden mold as they dispatch
Assassins who inflict a deadly jolt.


With ease he strings a modest web to snatch
Another batch of fantasies that stroll
Upon the backs of fads he needs to scratch.


           The fitful chimes of peace and fury toll
           Throughout the pale-eyed stranger in the soul.


He prowls the maiden groves whose rosy fruits
Arouse his roving eye with perfumed salt
Their buxom vine develops in its roots.


Two separate paths are mapped unto the vault
Within a woman's fort, as smiles prepare
The strategies commencing his assault;


One schemes to cause self-serving disrepair
And loot her keep, the other to make whole
The bridge that leads into love's vacant lair.


           A cleaving pendulum of passions roll
           Across the pale-eyed stranger in the soul.


He lies atop his feathered frame of whims
A weathered crumb for aimless ants to heave
While wistful dreams inebriate his limbs.


The frigid itch beleaguering the sleeve
Of conscious will bewitches motley traits
Which seek the thrill that grace cannot achieve.


As locomotive bedlam storms the gates
He stores his dearest trophies in a hole
Concealed below his ugliest estates.


           Despotic tendrils reach forth and control
           The passive, pale-eyed stranger in the soul.


The wayward mass of a volcanic star
Discharges mutant rays upon the groove
His pulse pursues within life's gloomy jar.


A restless void compels its mob to move
From one jejune dominion to the next
Expelling natives they do not approve.


An enigmatic alchemy has vexed
His maddened marrow forged into the coal
A doleful sparrow muses at perplexed.


           The tension strung between each feudal pole
           Confounds the pale-eyed stranger in the soul.


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