Apricocks... Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise; -Shakespeare: Midsummer Night's Dream
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Love Haiku
monogamy bites
the plural of spouse is spice
poly-paradise
Jameson 8/14/13 (exactly 6 mos. to Valentine's Day)
Monday, August 12, 2013
Arthritic Ego
Arthritic Ego
Is there anything more to say
old age is the demise of both
lad and ego neatly contained
in the very words and dispelled
with finality to the quick
to the joints that once bent
like reeds in the wind
undamaged by the onslaught
of storm and season's change
now inflamed as if in anger
thundering with pain at
the very idea of age creeping
creepily under the skin
to the bone
as I become stiff as the
Buddha on the porch
impervious
my knuckles touching as if
in holy meditation knowing
nonetheless I shall be no more
alive than the seven icons
adorning my home
denying what I could never quite
the ego the lad in me the flash
of lightning I thought was my soul
Jameson 8-12-13
Is there anything more to say
old age is the demise of both
lad and ego neatly contained
in the very words and dispelled
with finality to the quick
to the joints that once bent
like reeds in the wind
undamaged by the onslaught
of storm and season's change
now inflamed as if in anger
thundering with pain at
the very idea of age creeping
creepily under the skin
to the bone
as I become stiff as the
Buddha on the porch
impervious
my knuckles touching as if
in holy meditation knowing
nonetheless I shall be no more
alive than the seven icons
adorning my home
denying what I could never quite
the ego the lad in me the flash
of lightning I thought was my soul
Jameson 8-12-13
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)