The poet and his island


The poet walked in helping himself with a cane
But one could easily see that he carresed many thighs in his time
Whom he then rounded about in rhymes

On his island all the women melt in the Mediterranean sea
So the poet has to leave the verse free
To build a maize of subtle meanings
To lure back the maddened sirens
Maddened by his rocky kisses

The poet was reciting
The poet rolls out verses in an unknown language
The way how he breaths in the h’s is familiar to me though
The sounds emitted are faucal, like spell of some sort
The poet has a warm smile as if he met some old friend
And in his eyes he wears all the warmth of his island

8 thoughts on “The poet and his island

  1. Louis Kasatkin

    Etched in so few words,the biography of a bohemian with its mordant allusions to his louche lifestyle.A masterly yet so understated piece as the reader might expect from this author.

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