#englishshakespearean
I send her roses each and every day.
She asks for reasons, they don't satisfy.
This heart's expression is my only way
to answer each and every question, why?
She plants each one inside a large glass vase.
It fattens in its bulky green-red width.
She waters it hourly just in case
this bulk shrivel by one rose-breadth.
In truth they have no petals and no stem,
no color and no subtle fragrant scent.
The vase is her awareness of them.
They are but words of love my passions sent.
For I am but a poor and broken soul,
whose love for my dear love raises me whole.
(C)2019, Christos Rigakos
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 9:32 PM UTC
The jolly fat woman who rode on a horse,
galloped, galloped with a clackity-clack,
on cobble stone streets as if under attack,
from her great hunger pangs, of course.
It galloped and galloped until a great crack
was felt and a screeching loud neigh was heard,
that startled to pitch-panicked flight every bird,
throwing the fat off its back.
She rose from the mud to wipe off and gird
her honor back onto her jiggling *****
then ran to the inn where she haggled with fulsome,
for a bowl of hot fish soup with curd.
She gained two more stone in her gluttonous course,
then haggled at stables for a much stronger horse.
(C)2018, Christos Rigakos
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 10:46 PM UTC