Love is a soft and sweet triumph.
And triumph fills our every breath.
When we drink at the shore of Leth
Love's memory will not depart
Its passion fills the depth and breadth;
Sweet triumph of love's passion.
Four big buzzards in a sycamore tree,
licking their lips while staring down at me,
singing please hurry up now old man death.
This boy looks done and ready for turning,
we’re so hungry that our stomach’s churning,
just waiting for him to gasp his last breath.
He no longer has sabers to rattle,
too weak to survive that one last battle,
bring him his sip of water from the Leth.
Leth-(Greek mythology) a river in Hades; the souls of the dead had to drink from it, which made them forget all they had done and suffered when they were alive
I'm not playing games with my heart,
Love is not a game of ecarte;*
Take, discard, take again, and trump,
Win, lose, win, lose and then restart.
Love should not be just a speed bump,
Never a noisy callithump,**
On the highway from birth to death,
Love is a soft and sweet triumph.
And triumph fills our every breath.
When we drink at the shore of Leth***
Love's memory will not depart
Its passion fills the depth and breadth.
*a French game of cards
**a noisy parade
***a river in Hades. Drinking its water removes the memories of life.
For: Interlocking Rubaiyat Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Angel L Villanueva
October 21, 2021
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