Keith Bickerstaffe Poet Verse

Ennui

...inspired by 'A Cooking Egg' by T.S. Eliot

 
Ronaldo sprawled in luxury
across from where the spaniel lay,
he soldiered on with Mallarme
and, yawning, re-read Chapter One.

The Grandfather ticked ponderously,
there was no other sound in sight
except dear Josephine who plonked
and murdered dear Stravinsky's Rite.

Boredom was the day's absorption
with the National Election,
who shall be our next Great Leader?
pray not a hopeless interceder!

Clementine declared, 'the weather
seems to be a bit inclement,
what shall I wear to Blanche's soiree,
burgundy, or pearly grey?'

Ronaldo trifled with religion,
'Heaven doesn't need a poet
who maligns the Holy Spirit,
I am going straight to Hell,

where I'll meet Lucrezia Borgia,
who will toy with my affections, 
feed me fabulous confections,
as she plots my own demise.

Nobility has late escaped me,
suburbanites are out to scold me,
gentle is as gentle does
is not the same as it once was.

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Mark Peterson February 18, 2016 at 11:17 PM For better or worse, we've largely been spared nobility. Yours will for us suffice. I enjoyed this although I don't think it is quite as smooth as the others I've read. No great complaint, however. I mean, I had to critique something because you've afforded little room in that regard. I get picky with the Firebird and the Rite, Petroushka, Flight of the Nightingale, all favorites. To banish poets to hell serves no rhyme or reason. Neither do politicians. Tis motivation to end up elsewhere. Keith Bickerstaffe February 19, 2016 at 8:50 AM Thank you sir! much appreciated... Keith