The Secret Pleasure of The Censor
An Ekphrastic Sonnet
That exquisite frisson of covert joy
That capers through the flesh of the censor
Arises from the power to destroy
What took everything from the creator
What a study in cruel, mad irony!
What better homage to The Creator
Than making worlds oneself, through story?
But this offends the vain, foolish censor
To him alone, the power must belong
To bless or curse each inky world of words
To heed or silence each poem or song
The better to keep order in his herds
For those who would keep you from reading things
Fear most the song the free range reader sings
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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181 Keeping Watch
Each day she watched through her window. Watched? Perhaps an exaggeration: a monochromatic nuclear aftermath remaining of the world, blurring into a blindness--loss of contrast and depth of field. Achromatic aberrations displayed a waste-scape stratified in grays.
By Gerard DiLeo4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
Oooo, I especially loved those last two lines! Awesomeeee poem!
I liked your poem..
Amazing poem! Your word choice was so on point.
Oo, what an interesting topic! Another wonderful poem as always.
Indeed! Preach it! Love the images and your stirring words - they make me justifiably cross and enraged.