A Fanciful Ode



It is all imagination, of course. (But isn’t everything?) 








One bright morning
As the sun lit his room,
He realised that passion
Had a deeper meaning
Than he’d ever given credit for.
All those ladies
Who’d blessed his lust with gold;
Who’d given love in kind;
Had filled his diary,
Were fleeting notions to fill a verse.
But there was one –
I think Shirley her name –
Who came now out of nowhere
To take his hand again
Leading him to real paradise.
When that moment –
Magical as his life –
Flashed like rainbow lightening
On blank pristine pages,
He was gone away with the faeries.
Shirley checking
Her stocking seams are straight,
He knowing what it meant
To give the World such verse –
Just nectar. No kisses, and no sex…

Just reclusive poetic magic!



© griffonner 2023
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critique and comments welcome.
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Nice one Allen, a subtle rhythm in my ears. And oh, straitening her seams in her stockings; whatever happened to good erotica? Now its just lust!


Just read it and commented; and no wonder he is missed.


Damn! Read it again, the muse dear boy, the muse; you jammy sod, you’ve pulled it off!
This should be nibberpickered – I call forth the conclave to adjudicate!


The gift of imagination is a wonderful thing; coupled with a muse like yours then the gift of creation becomes magical, like this poem.


I really like all the images that jump out of this poem, it has such vibrance in it. 🙂 sue.


Allen, There’s much to learn from the images that come out here. Strangely, the poem has an oriental touch to it. I went and read Rick’s poem. Thank you so much Allen for letting us read the poem. He will never die, not in this space.

Last edited 2 years ago by supratik
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