Gold comes in many forms: all of them hymned <br />Carolled and forced into lyric shapes <br />By wordshifters, poets, prosaic apes <br />Of god, straddling the language, thrusting, rimmed <br />With pleasures coarse or cultured, all of them <br />Aglow. Gold light creasing hedges, glittering dawn, <br />Gold heaped Ali-Baba high, .Midas-touched, corn- <br />Yellow, Miser’s hoards, setting for a gem. <br /> <br />What a cascade of cash. <br /> <br />Gold-metaphor or real, capitalist <br />Encoding, should be shunned then, ? <br /> <br />Even gold limbs? <br /> Ah, that cliché I own. <br />Admit, embrace. That gold is to be kissed <br />Caressed in slanting evening light, lithe, hot <br />With dreams and, yes, quotations: Make ‘sweet moan’.<br /><br />Richard Blanch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/golden-5/
