Ruba’i*: The Poet, the Page and the Word in whichever Order?
The poet en face the page: unwritten words come to head
Words await tongues to be formed for poems to be read
Heavenly bodies stretch out seeking caravanserai
En route to gauge the extent of the ruba’i’s ruby red!
• ruba’i (plural: ruba’iyat): 11th-12th century Persian self-contained
quatrain of 14 syllables rhyming aaba made popular in the West through
Edward Fitzgerald’s 1859 translations titled: The Ruba’iyat of Omar Khayyam
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
WHICHEVER CLOSET IS CLOSEST
Our closet now bares itself of frilly things in silk and lace
My soul was her embrace
our mirror is now minus her face
a reflection that portended perfection
sans any necessary correction
a facial fantasy framed by winsome wisps of wondrous waves
cascading through the constellation of her golden hair
the hues from the brightest star in the galaxy we would share
and dared to decline when night would declare we bid each other adieu
because in our hearts was still the salty aired sky of blue
spent by the water while whittling away at another Autumnal day
when a few stubborn leaves refused to infuse themselves with the color of Septmber
a day I will always remember
and those leaves, like us, would bow to a lover’s call
a tree to shed the dead and stall the fall
but now she’s gone away, it’s true
she said perhaps for a week or two
but something tells me otherwise’
maybe it was the look in her eyes
as the lady said her hushed goodbyes
so I just may miss the Miss sublime
for the remainder of my languid lifetime
© 2012…PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
WHICHEVER CLOSET IS CLOSEST
Our closet now bares itself of frilly things in silk and lace
My soul her embrace
our mirror minus her face
a reflection that portends perfection
sans any necessary correction
a facial fantasy framed by winsome wisps of wondrous waves
cascading through the constellation of her golden hair
the hues from the brightest star in the galaxy we would share
and dared to decline when night would declare we bid each other adieu
because in our hearts was still the salty aired sky of blue
spent by the water while whittling away at another Autumnal day
when a few stubborn leaves refused to infuse themselves with the color of Septmber
a day I will always remember
and those leaves, like us, would bow to a lover’s call
a tree to shed the dead and stall the fall
but now she’s gone away, it’s true
she said perhaps for a week or two
but something tells me otherwise’
maybe it was the look in her eyes
as the lady said her hushed goodbyes
so I just may miss the Miss sublime
for the remainder of my languid lifetime
© 2012…PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~