Bertrand Of Nimes In Anguish
Halitosis hit me as he cut my hair
Wish I'd stayed in bed
For just another dreamless hour
With the full-term freight of my head
In a flowery bower
Over there
For I cannot now repeat
The imposing gasp
Of inward tasting of old air
Of rusty lock and hasp
Condemned to foul disuse
In the street
Now, beyond the scraps of Monday, lies my life
In which unending appetites are rife
And rend and tear
Both hen and hare
For such is strife
With wench or wife
Eliot grasped for me, keen
To pound my extremities flat
Into the flower-garden of memory -
Where nothing is wholly ephemery
Except for the names of his cat
Impractical, slightly obscene
And wholly mad, as his dear queen
Contributors: | Apsley, Surlaw. |
Poem finished: | 28th March 2005 by Surlaw. |