Her words were olive green, <br />hairy and quasi round, <br />they fell into his lap <br />and lay there, silently. <br />Oh! Kiwifruit he mused, <br />the best be found inside, <br />astringent it would be <br />though soothing to his tongue, <br />he'd keep his loins in place, <br />a hint of tremors would be left <br />as if it were a proper part of all, <br />a strange assertive mood had, <br />in the nick of his allotted time <br />come over him, a thread of guilt <br />well woven into time and space <br />clung to his sagging jowls <br />a sentinel of sorts, unloved <br />and quite unwanted as it stuck <br />like envy to this pantsuit of a lie. <br />His eyes were focused high, <br />they always caught her lips <br />and what rolled off them <br />in the haste of their Bonjours, <br />huge claims had taken hold <br />and staked their high demands <br />upon the territory's peasant ways, <br />an overload of hostile sounds, <br />of odours burning without flame, <br />and flesh decaying unbeknownst, <br />its greenish exudate a sign <br />that shadows of infinity appear <br />as a reminder of the common truths, <br />and to dismiss the siren songs <br />that filter casually down to the street <br />as entertainment to the sweepers' day. <br />He knew he had a chance, just one in two <br />to tear himself away, it was no laissez-faire, <br />nor would they fault him for courageous deeds, <br />and there was substance in his mood, <br />which grew by way of stealth and ennui. <br />Intuitive from birth, raised by strict hands <br />perception was a suit that fit him well, <br />he was no fool who'd let his head be stood aside, <br />there was a solid beating drum inside his shell. <br />It must be seen what Mother Nature has in store <br />or what the gods find entertaining for their needs, <br />there is the little word they call forevermore <br />all strung together with small diamonds in beads.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich 2<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beads/
