I haven’t forgotten my old friend, J. Alfred. Have any of you joined me in this Tweetspeak Poetry dare? I’m almost there.
Here’s proof that I earned barista badge #9 for this stanza:
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet–and here is no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And, in short, I was afraid.
What’s your favorite line in this stanza? Why?