Out of practice

A silly man of wit infirm
Believes I'll go to hell
If I admire the lovely form
Of a tall dark demoiselle.


*


Sweet lady, do not chide me for my gaze:
Your gestures and your looks simply amaze!


*


Her feet were made of Jesus, and her voice
Could make the cold stones tremble and rejoice.


*


How do I love you?  Well, if truth be told,
I'd gladly kiss you till we both grow old.


*


My love's no fever, but a clear fresh spring
Sustaining me through all my wandering.


*


Yes, Dante's Beatrice would bend the knee
Before my sovereign lady's majesty.


*


These April blossoms seem so weak
Compared to my love's sun-kissed cheek.


*


This woman on the bus -- young, dark, and slender --
Outshines the summer sun in her fierce splendour.


*


If any man is not profoundly pleased
By her bright smile, well, then, his heart's diseased!


*


O pious soul, so proper and so rigid,
How did your blood become so tame and frigid?


*


Very few poets' rhymes can quite compare
To the proud song of her unstraightened hair.


*


The tuneful songbirds and the rumbling trucks
Signal the sun will soon come up -- aw, shucks!

Song of Songs

Heaven

I have lately revised a prose poem, whose first draft was written nine years ago, and blogged here shortly afterwards.  Am hoping that it will interest at least one reader, and perhaps even bring a measure of delight.


Humbly submitted for your consideration, here is "Heaven."

Sweet and tender hooligan

I must be the only person who wakes up thinking of people in the news who haven't been in the news in a quarter-century.


Mathias Rust, the German fellow who flew a single-passenger aircraft into Moscow's Red Square during the tail-end of the Soviet Communist days.  They charged him with something that in the English translation sounded almost comic to me: "rank hooliganism," or words to that effect.  Maybe "malicious hooliganism" or "hooliganism aforethought"!


Well, my thoughts elided from Herr Rust to this marvelous anthem by the Smiths, presented here for the delectation of those who are inclined to be ... delectated?