Phantom aphrodisiac
in your heart and you shall see
that in truth you are weeping
for that which has been your delight."
(Epitaph at Waverley)
*
On shelving rock above the ocean,
shaded from the noonday sun
by a sandstone overhang,
I eat figs harvested in Greece.
The texture of their hearts is grainy,
gritty to the teeth as sand;
their taste reminds me of an island,
fig-leaves like prehensile hands.
Trees grew wild beside the road,
their fragrance mingled with the sea's,
distilling essences of Aphrodite's
subtle energies.
The figs my lover plucked for me
were fresh as morning, sweet as dew,
concentrating autumn rains
with sea-foam and cicada frenzy.
As I took the scented gift,
"You'd better check for worms," said he,
but only in this dried husk of a summer
do I notice larvae...
Свидетельство о публикации №106041500487
Your sweetest fruit
I'm another
Not so good
Nobody eat me
I'm not good
No larvae live'n me
I'm no good
Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breese
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees
Hereis a fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
for the sun to ripe, for the tree to drop
Hereis a strange and bitter crop
Иннокентий Флик 17.04.2006 13:19 Заявить о нарушении
Jena Woodhouse 21.04.2006 06:31 Заявить о нарушении
http://www.stihi.ru/2006/04/21-1291
СИнсерЛИ,
Фил
Иннокентий Флик 23.04.2006 15:29 Заявить о нарушении