Not Quite Paradise

Go be mystical by yourself.  Be silent
And away from me as you become
Inebriate, gushing over misty vales
And gurgling brooks, the trees which
Sway in gentle breezes. It's all nice.  
I'll grant you that, but your ecstatic
Claptrap isn't, and, of course, when
Evening comes, and you extol the beauty
Of the clouds the sun has bathed in gold,
You'll have to pause to slap your arms.  
Mosquitoes will come, too.





Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 41 times
Written on 2022-09-05 at 13:46

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
....and it gets even worse from there with Zika, Dengue, and Malaria - to name a few. Or am I being a bit of a pessimist?
(*takes tongue out of cheek and exits stage left*) :)
The thing is, it is a good poem even so.
Allen
2022-09-06


urban duck The PoetBay support member heart!
you don't let any chances to the mystics
2022-09-06