Ezra

Beauty is so rare a thing
So few drink of its fountain.

This I said. Ay. And then ran off
To sing the song of laws
To the Italian
Who did not understand
But humored me and thus I won
An audience to whom I sang
Like the Aegean did to Homer
But while he listened, they did not,
And laughed at me.

Yet still I sang

Till my own countrymen
Locked me in a field. With no
Paper on which to compose
I wrote my songs on toilet eaves
And built a branch to paradise
For which they locked me up

In the loony bin.



Poetry by Sameen The PoetBay support member heart!
Written on 2025-11-29 at 16:31

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text