Wednesday, 10 February 2010


“We grow gray in our spirit long before we grow gray in our hair.” - Charles Lamb

Dredging the old journals once again to find this poem from my youth. Romance seemed so fresh then, now the palate is jaded somewhat and seeks more piquant tastes.

Falling in Love

Your mouth a flower
A sweet flower full of nectar.
Your mouth a trap, a spider sitting on its web.
A spider waiting for a victim
And I, a weak incautious butterfly
That flies, hovers and falls
Into your fatal mesh.

Your eyes double suns shine,
Transmitting rays of light effulgent,
Attracting me to their deadly fires.
The suns hot and indifferent,
And I, a moth, helpless, impotent
Who flies there itself to immolate,
Without alternative or choice.

Your arms green branches
Of the greenwood tree
They seem benign, innocent.
Your hands offer caresses
But in the end mete out death.
A little sparrow I, fly into the darkness
Only to perish immobile in your birdlime

Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday!

1 comment: