Poetic Interlude XVII

Anniversary

Like all the most bewitching sins,

You overflow with vice -

Oh, let the merriment begin!

And don’t skimp on the ice.

You comfort me when I am woeful,

And you meet my giddy grin,

You permit me to be social

Go on, pour the tonic in.

Sobriety is over rated -

Life with you has been sublime;

You know that I’m self-medicated:

Pour another gin and lime.

The Field

The swallows swoop, singing -

My foot gives the meter

The grain grows in chorus; Demeter’s refrain.

I march each new furrow,

Attending the tiller,

Powered by petrol, no longer by hay:

I’ll conquer this field by the end of the day.

*******

I reap what was sown in

A more hopeful season:

I feel as they did in my forefathers’ day.

The sun and the sweat

And the flies are the backdrop

The reaping’s fulfilling, in back-breaking way:

I’ll conquer this field by the end of the day.

Tagged: Poetic Interludes, Poetry, Writing