Saturday, December 22, 2012

Magic Carpet

Of course it isn’t but what if 
This wind-scattered bed of soft rotting 
Pied apricot leaves decides to pull 
Itself together and take off back to where 
The sky’s the limit again? 


  1. The first thing I have read today. A beautiful image to carry me, as on a magic carpet, through another busy, glorious day.

  2. soft rotting/ Pied apricot leaves

    Lovely cluster of words with "pied" showing up brightly

  3. This is lovely, Vassilis.

    Here the mouldy magic carpet of leaves has sunk to the ocean floor (i.e. the flooded streets), where it takes a fresh pounding with each successive storm. Nonetheless the melodious chant and the brilliant boy of wood have smoked me out into the thought of brighter days, hinted at in the lofty ascent of this poem to its happy ending. What has happened to happy endings, any more?

    Can it be they have all been baked magically into a daft elder's late-out-of-the-oven holiday pie?

  4. Thanks so much Tom--your mention of happy endings moved me enough to pen this little ditty commemorating Greece's recent financial "victory".

    A Farewell to Grexit

    No more alas in bankrupt Hellas—
    Money up the bunghole, adios morass!


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