The sky is marvellous tonight, it’s fraught
with possibilities of windswept cliffs.
It’s dark out here in space, but just a thought -
heavenly bodies found in hieroglyphs.
And yet, the stars are far and few between,
as feared. Navigating ebon, it’s clear
that forms and beams of light are unforeseen.
For who out here can find the Bard, Shakespeare?
Look! See! What a beauty! Hourglass figure,
that beaming bod. She’s dressed in blue and bright.
The hottest star, you could not prefigure.
At verge of light, can you see she’s just right?
Don’t forsake space. The faithful find the light.
A soulmate far away. She’s out of sight.
Right at daybreak the sparrow starts
To quibble, heralding the day.
"Prick! Prick! He says in spurts
Like a vexed man having his say!
He deals out thoughts,
Slights and retorts!
He prefigures what's to come
In the nearing daylight hours.
Things will cause us to lose our calm
And there'll be times for no favors.
You'll free your chest
And speak with zest!
The sparrow shows a clear spirit:
Voicing feelings without restraint,
Talking straight, not for plaudit
Or fighting shy of all complaint.
He says his say!
He talks away!
In the coming several hours
There will be all manner of talk,
Some benign and some venomous;
Hence the sparrow starts out the walk
With this quibble
As a dribble!
The Egyptians walked sideways I figure
to conceal the fine points of their figure.
In a desperate scrimmage
with their own body image
diet mania they would prefigure.
elegance
of a
phrase
ripples
across
my mind:
glittering
prefigure
a poesie:
flitter
flicker
into life
crying
I'm here!
from within
the berth
channel
of
inspiration
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