Diary of an Upstart Crow
Would that I in time to come
– With finest strokes of oaken apple
Seasoned with pure mind & gum,
Should set my quill by moon & sun
Flee from courtly whim & dagger
And shun these taverns of rowdy vice,
Where moistened lips do twist & blather
In darkened light & furtive swagger.
Would that I should start with crackle
To tell what maketh men consider –
And take thy leave from Avon’s babble
That stokes the witch’s tongue with gravel
Would that I should leave no trail,
Nor writ on cobbles – to no avail.
©️Orion Foote
Visions of Orion Poetry 