johnjohndoe

We stood at the foot of a steep
Declivity. Huddled in the shadow
Of a converted mosque. The sky low
And filled with tattered clouds.
Everything was delineated, sculptured,
Etched. Everything was paradoxical.
We drank our wine from a tray made of
Lead, zinc, and tin.


for OldMac,

Martin

I like the way you divide the sentences and the consistent capitalization grew on me. Also, the images are intruiging.
As for the meaning, I am not sure about this one; a very personal reference maybe, but the ending and title leaves me questioning. I do hope to get to the bottom of this one.

/m

Noirllyn

I don't know if the last line of the poem is supposed to be the last line of the post, but if it is, I think it ought not to end with a comma.

Other than that, my only beef is with the word "everything". I think it would be better off as a shorter word ("all", perhaps).

Very good use of sound.

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