Well, waiting for the bus in the rain today, I wrote a ghazal. Mark Weiss
will be very smug to hear that the cadence and pattern seemed to resolve
itself into a nature poem that moralised on mortality. Gracious! The next
step - if I get that far - is of course to take the form and see if it
allows me to write anything else, which would require rather more of a
wrestle. No more than pastiche of course, but here it is for the hell of it
- it was fun to write -
Best
A
summer crowds of apricots occlude the sky
small perfumed suns that fall onto the grass
birds bicker in the branches and the branches shake
and showers glaze the fallen fruits, a dew of glass
and so they bruise and blacken to a cloying stench
a feast for flies, although this too will pass
all sweetness gleams but briefly from the shade
such webs as weave our selvings do not last
and even our corruption is a tiny thing
a sour breath that fades into the past
Alison Croggon
Blog: http://theatrenotes.blogspot.com
Editor, Masthead: http://masthead.net.au
Home page: http://alisoncroggon.com
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