So
is a ring
merely bling
to formalize
an ongoing fling
and make it cling
(ka-ching!)
or perhaps
instead, another
much more
symbolic thing?
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7 comments:
Perhaps instead, a bit more symbolic thing..
Personally, I think you're right, Fingers. But the question has arisen among acquaintances (and assorted other characters) elsewhere in e-space, so I thought I might solicit opinions...
Hey, you know, it depends on the wearer...
Or
is a gold band
a filigreed strand
of old contraband
to gild someone's hand
and act as a brand
until they can't stand
on that foundation of sand
and the relationship's canned
and all emotion is banned
as the small distance it spanned
grows increasingly bland?
(ka-ching!)
your serve...
Mmmm, zesty! The cynicism of Mashmakan skillfully blended with soupçons of the moody foreboding of Perth County Conspiracy and fruity overtones of Edward Bear, all followed up with a nice, dry, oaky finish... A completely worthy lob, my friend. Okay, back at 'cha:
Is this
that long, dark
teatime of the soul
where the fat lady
begins to sing?
Does this sintered ring
shine for me anymore
or is it
a sometime thing,
one of the slings
and arrows
of outrageous fortune
that's lost its zing
or any anticipation
of what joy may bring
boding a total
lack of schwing
(O love, o love,
where'st
thy sweet sting?)
Is romance as rare
as a vase of Ming?
Shall there be, yet,
another tremulous spring?
Or will I
like the sad thousands
of others for whom
a box spring now
signifies only snores
repair thereto
that last refuge
of failed marriage
the sports bar,
to bond therein with
overweight guys
past their prime
but still yet in full denial,
to drink watery mass-brand beer,
watch large-screen sports
and scarf endless prefrozen
microwaved buffalo wings?
(again, ka-ching...)
Hahahahahahaha! The keys to the Smith-Corona are again yours, my son..
pretty good, pretty good - actually, great - I think you won, but I can't resist one more. thanks and kudos for the kudo and only single sentence to my knowledge that includes Mashmakan, Perth County Conspiracy and Edward Bear. Well, except for that one just now.
if the flames hadn't been fanned
by a sultry and tanned
oriflammed beauty
who danced saraband
into romantic forays
to help understand
the channel uncharted
and waters unscanned
where the Africaan Rand
has no ampersand
to the bluesy and breezy
Winnipeg-an
(of whom do I speak
but the kewl Remy Shand?)
and the lasting effects
if nothing but grand
would have to have been
much less than unplanned
and the ring's mythic status
reduced to wristband
and thus the Swamplands of Hell
turned to Heaven's Grassland...
(my gawd the last lines
do seem so unmanned!)
but never-the-less
denote a sort of command
of an unconscious credo
in a primal longhand
of the lovelorn reflections
of a new misanthrope's
most recent crash-land
Kaaaaaaaaa-CHING!
back at ya, ma man!
Haha! Thanks for playing! I'd call it a draw, Molina. We both know from doggerel -- after all, we're both dogs of sorts. We'll do it again. And I'll just pull the lid over this here sandbox, with one more, too:
Such a fine baleance
developing salience
to cultivate taleants
as casual pal-liance
moves from first dalliance
to permanent alliance...
Kaaa-chiiingggg.
Thankya, thankyaverymuch.
Elvis has left the building.
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