Daily Poem Entries

On Looking Back 2

On Looking Back 2

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
when their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
I see the boys of summer in their ruin.
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days,
of birth and death, the two sad knaves of thieves
file through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones
to hide the wolves of sleep.

In my craft or sullen art,
after the first death, there is no other.


Line count: 10
Free verse cento using the poems of Dylan Thomas
For The Daily Poem, 11.06.21 (Winner)
Prompt: CHOOSE YOUR FAVORITE POET AND WRITE A CENTO.

Lines chosen from (in order):
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Dark Night
And Death Shall Have No Dominion
I See The Boys Of Summer
The Force That Through The Green Fuse Drives The Flower
Fern Hill
My Hero Bares His Nerves
Light Breaks Where No Sun Shines
Poem (Your Breath Was Shed)
In My Craft Or Sullen Art
A Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, Of A Child In London.