An old poem, or what seems like a poem, I found in my baul of writings. Hay... if I can only write half as good as my poet friends. Heres my pitiful attempt dedicated to women everywhere. SONG FOR EVE By Joel Pablo Salud It may not perhaps be fair To say you are strange; Point to all the curves of the cosmos, Tell me, without any reservation, How come misers sing you gold and topaz If only to gawp at your breasts, And kings their rustic sapphires For a glimpse of a cherry in your smile? Between a toast, a drink Kingdoms lay ruined or are sworn at your feet Even as the most saintly of the churches Turn into night’s ignoble beast; Stranger things had transpired After men had a nibble of your feasts; And yet… and yet… Words mean little when set against The cuddle of suns in your eyes, Or the buzzing nightfall before The half-lit crescent of your lips; Whoever wishes to rise beyond weathers Has only to seize a feather from your wing And the heap that is Babel in the mind Fails and forever loses its sting; What tribe can deny you Amber, rubies the scent of pines When all, even seraphs, bow at your feet? Nestled above every imaginable hue— How can all this be a thing too odd When men love more richly because of you?
Posted on: Wed, 21 Jan 2015 08:35:43 +0000