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Tatiana Pahlen
Fool Moon
Once in a while
when the moon is full
I'm anxious to let my hair down,
liberated from an old cocoon,
I mix up verbs and nouns.
I pay no attention
to my fussy friends,
teasing me on how odd it sounds;
my sentences make no sense to them,
hence in response all denounce.
I'm lengthening the limits
of the English frame,
not many aliens dare,
yet American lions of a noble fame,
like T.S. Eliot or Hemingway,
Leading alchemists
who crystallized words
embraced Shakespeare and Byron:
amid Poe, Kipling and Frost
their efforts giant.
Once in a while
when the moon is full
I sit and sigh by the window;
not a soul around, but a writing tool,
I tackle more words and yell, "Bingo!"
State-of-the-Art
Salieri
Tortured by a slow
poison,
allowing ire nesting a trap,
Inside his heart he erects a war zone,
inspiring jealousy to curb
and dwell on flatulence and treason,
turning green pastures into turf,
while honored by the cheering mob.
Sweating in the fruitless labor,
He labels the price for his measly skills.
In the center by using elbows,
he fails to shine among his peers;
His sense of self is largely airborne,
condemning brilliance is a needless risk.
Black Widows
Oh women the eyes
that gleam,
Their sharpened rays exploit its weapon,
They cause your chill or make you steam,
Or bite again the rotten apple.
The lighter steps of finest legs
The firmer hearts of dulcet vixens,
Providing calmly love and sex,
They suck your brain howling at crescents.
Fetching blandly into their net
They make believe you are in Heaven,
But when they are done you're plainly dead –
The underground's casual tenants.
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Tatiana Pahlen
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