Gladiators with Pens

Colosseum of thought,

Hemmed in by walls of piled humanity,

They cheer on

Without knowing why. 

Tumultuous crescendo assails ears that seek only quiet,

A small place to think,

To write.

Alas this is no haven,

No sanctity from the outside world.

No, no place for unsheathed pens that always did prefer the still of night;

Written deaths are less of a draw in the darkness.

Pity,

It could have worked.

A Gladiator of words would have been so novel. 

 

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21 thoughts on “Gladiators with Pens”

  1. I caught every subtle nuance of this beautifully written angst. Oh the things we can say in public, to the very public, knowing all the while that they will prove the poem. even so.

    you are fast become a favorite of mine Mr. Ankers.

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