A Service Of Songs
that I have held, seeds that I have lost,
Who would not chant the
rosary for the charred bright seeds?
Forever passing glances at the tempting things so dear,
They are all laughing back at him with flirtatious cheers.
The thrill and torment of peeking made all windows one.
He browsed Life's arrayed, tantalising shop-window;
He plumbed in vain, the dreamy mind's humble window.
Without desire no life can happen: so he surfed and wooed;
He pimped through the dot-com window to find a way out.
The lovely and the plain; the ugly and the bored:
They wired dollars from distant lands to be loved.
A season in heaven squandered like stolen Sterling;
The dance floor is empty, the party is over on a flop.
The trans-atlantic sweetheart sulks, a cute broken darling;
The playboy is back to his void on a high decibel of hip-hop.
Sentinel Poetry (Online) #43 - June 2006. ISSN 1479-425X
The International Journal of Poetry & Graphics...since 2002. Editor: Amatoritsero Ede