Poetry that rhymes...like playing tennis WITH a net! |
Listen children, the moon is full The trees have dropped their winter bough Creeks thick slide down mountain’s lean The bones are all licked clean Silhouettes dance in between The broken stumps of forest fire Sparks ignite the brittle air And float toward heaven’s bower Laughter mad twists echoes flight Forgetful of the ruined dream ‘Til all become the Knight of thought The meat began to rot Shallow whispers steal cold fury Burn warm passion down to ash Nature’s mind fills full of worry Lays head upon the grass The sluggish ice upon her brow Congeals dark shadows into death Convulse pale dawn upon the earth Four ribs rattle with breath Below the depths the ancients grieve For sorrows measureless to man The summer children pluck the leaves And plant them in the sand Fulfill the prophet’s sleepy vision Stand before the raging stone Feel the weight of indecision Like the seedling grow Turn blossoms into burnished gold Ripe and dripping juice Pick and fill your wicker pail With ambrosial fruits Then ferry them to bribe the Queen Who may grant your request To lay your weary old gray head Upon her sagging breasts Then hours passed like seconds And dreams become fine feasts With tables laden richly Twelve plates before twelve seats Come children to your supper Beneath the moonbeams ray Satiate your appetite Upon lunar filet Then push back wooden chairs Loosen leather belts Awaken from your slumber How strange the season felt Yesterday I was the child Today I am the man Yesterday I knew I couldn’t Today I think I can |