ekkis
|
poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit
Repas du soir |
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A finger holds whilst the blade slices,
the studied practice of an ancient art;
A threek, a decanter - the tools and devices
of warm seduction to compel my heart
A finicky recipe she follows
from sources eclectic and queer;
with herbs and spices are stuffed the hollows
of tender beast soaked in batter of beer
What fey magic in her loving touch
to thus handle the fabric of life
my tummy and spirit to feed so well and much
that I should look upon her and see wife!
So an evening is filled, with merriment and feast
or the luxury of comfort, at the very least
But after, retire - my love - your eve's work is done
I'm soon to follow, to snow white sheets
and hugs and kisses and special treats
where home awaits, and rest well won
15-I-04 Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder |
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