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Ides Of March, The
by Jersey D GibsonEight men alone in a dark room,
consipiring against their ruler.
Paranoia keeps them shadows,
and his death will set them free.
The fate of one man they do rule,
and dark thoughts they do hold.
The lot is cast, the rule is made,
and eternity is decided once more.
The souls of men they came to save,
take the soul of one man they will.
The people's praises they already hear,
their doom sneaks up on them silently.
The lot is cast once again by them,
their echoes are heard forever more.
They'll take their plots to their graves,
and they will be never more.
01/24/2002 Posted on 01/24/2002
Copyright © 2024 Jersey D Gibson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kim Bennett on 12/16/05 at 05:41 PM I know this is an old poem of yours, not only because of the date. The flow is really broken in this one, you've really improved with the ones you are writing now. I don't think you had found your voice yet, your style, when you wrote this one.
You should rewrite this. :P It's a really interesting concept. "Et tu, Brute?" And focus a bit more on the deception of Brutus to Ceaser, and also of Antony to Brutus. And you can still be vague about who you're talking about, that's a good technique for this one. (Wow, three comments, it's nice to have time). |
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