As we sailed the fast river of Rhône
the steady sun bleached it a sparkling gold
like the treasures of Caesar’s kingdom
A curtain of fawn-silken tackle, shaded
back the fervidly garish star scatter,
and cooling flower-scented airs tickled
the senses like touching down-soft silk
"zhuang hong zhuang sheng" (Chinese)
“Put on airs’ - Peter and I are Gatsby gilded.
Why not dress - on luminous forenoons?
Pick a heart, any heart and prick it, sharply,
with the sight of a handsome man.
I yet breathless, breathe
What weapon is sharper than libido?
I defend myself, with fashion’s sartorial sparkle.
Frankly, I was hoping for something passively erotic,
you know, foment a false perception - dazzle
with fancy outwork to tip the cosmic balance
Men will witness what they believe
.
.
song for this:
Desperately Trying by Club des Belugas, Anna Luca
Categories:
forenoons, boyfriend, river, romance, sun,
Form: Free verse
Ah that last spring, my love!
We would sit in the forenoons,
Lone and free meadows grew almonds;
And recite my wet vaporing lines—
Praising the arriving nomads, and the tranquil country.
O the dusky woods’ view all around
And like we lolled in their restful lap.
And that history-man, my far-friend,
Would read it and re-read, and stop, and sigh!
And then slowly wrap up wiping with his finger
Tears ‘d accumulate on his lids—
As beautiful as are the sunlit dews in early-summer’s dawn
Or tiny diamonds glimmering on the gowns of
Arabian belly-dancers.
And see this spring h’w has begun!
It seems this whole spring, my love!
We have to be indoors in fear.
written in early spring of 2014 when Afzal Guru was hanged in Tihar Jail by the Indians. And Kashmir was shut for some two weeks...
Categories:
forenoons, political,
Form: Free verse