Poet of the Fall By Ryan P. Tunison

Poet of the Fall

Upon the rows of Pandemonium 
I look, and see my former general 
Charming the masses; tongue like opium,
And eyes the shards of rusted mineral.
Around me air like chalk is dusted over:
Pupils glaring, blackholes would-be souls.
Allies in arms, their blades my neck did cover
As cannon shots replaced the stormy roles
Of thunder, that of lightning next will call.
Limbs hung heavy with burden of defeat
Are shackled, and the happy state does fall
As my reward, remitted, comes complete.
  The chants of comrades offer up my name:
  Their worthy sacrifice, a rebel’s shame.

Ryan P. Tunison is a poet devoted to the investigation of traditional versification, and the perfection of his craft. He holds a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature from Caldwell University, where he worked as editor for the campus literary magazine, Calyx. His poetry has appeared in Snapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing, The Minison Project, Grand Little Things, and The Chained Muse.