The Anti-thesis of Poeticised Fancies
Scarr C.

Darest I question this fatuous power,
These benighted eyes, these hands of flour?
My dulcified mouth cowls the ardour unsaid
For time is but a fustian charade.
I supplied the red bows with my heart in my ears,
Paid obeisance unto the kingship of jeers.
Beneath rolling sighs did incertitude wade
Did it banish your chivalry and serve to dissuade?
Nay, unmoved is my heart towards capricious dreams
The white knight is not as prosaic as one deems.
Gallantry is the victor, for want of pulchritude
Levity is forsaken; it begs to delude.
The scarves they lie still, betwixt fortunes and cards
I ask now to lovers, all sinners and bards:
On this anniversary of Saint Valentine
Would his lips take another's, or would he be mine?

{February7th2003}