once more the candle flickers <br />and dies <br />no gust of wind to fan the flame <br />and I stand riveted <br />Prometheus to a rock <br />the flesh slowly peeled <br />by carnivorous talons <br />hungry for new-blood's breath <br />chains without keys <br /> <br />rattle <br /> <br />in defiant rage <br />scorching the night <br />reverberating <br />thunder <br />to awaken the gods <br />hammering the gates with fired-lead fury <br />but there is no response <br />from Olympian heights <br />as the final dying echo <br /> <br />falls like a raindrop <br />in a puddle of silence. <br /> <br /> <br />(Previously published in Some Words: A Place For Poetry, Nov - Dec 1999)<br /><br />Laurence Overmire<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/riveted/
