Poetry can be a great lover if you know how to dance with words.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
(The image is one of my favorite places back home.)
Alas! The perch is empty now The twitter has long gone Stooping below the chastened brow A creaky, withered, frozen rone. Died, has the, jay and sparrow’s row? Epithet: a brooding splintered stone.
Ah…the pompous springtide glee Lads and lasses’ frolics on the sward. They knot and knot…a gluttonous spree Tête-à-tête! Sympathy begs the wasted lard. Who shall care for the bauble vee? Epithet: wisdom’s diadem of an ancient bard.
O The Carpet! Of twigs and twines The whistle of the wind, high and proud. Aloof stands golden forest lines Dead and silent, though glittering loud. How long for a chirp? O Time! O Time! Epithet: Shadows fallen, hunched and bowed.