Ts Eliot
Choice gathers poise in cryptic lines,
Reason seems ***** in odd converge;
Yes echoes voice in brilliant mind,
Pique strangely steers choice in vain merge;
Touch fronts a craze in verse logic,
Induce refrains within the terse;
Confuse the maze that allude flicks.
Troubling times pain in wounded verse,
Scenes of despair streak odd disease,
Explore down and up the wayward stress;
Loss stains the air in broken peace,
Oblivion cups the pungent mess;
Instruct no more the squalid race,
Time and space pour a curious trace.
Leon Enriquez
03 May 2015
Singapore
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