THE GRUELING HOT BROTH TANG
My lost illusions stand in line,
But I refuse to wait.
I'll trade my soup for turpentine,
My bread for fishing bait.
Too loose their clothes all wrinkled hang,
Too sad their aces pale,
Too thin the grueling hot broth tang,
I'll leave my dreams in jail.
I'm skin and bones for easy flight,
My eyes like dishes dash,
I'll gather sleep tomorrow night
And flip my shoes for cash.
And soon the morning after next
Will burnish me gourmet,
Surprise me with a talon flexed
Around a sweet fillet.
My belly filled with cool refrains,
I'll wave a brief reprieve,
Untie the knot the slip the chains
And gladly take my leave.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org #1
Ballad Meter
Sunday, November 7, 2010
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