BY THIS AUTHOR
To Pantheon and Back
Lower your head,
Ezra Pound;
methinks you’ve
been too proud.
Lend your ear,
and I’ll speak profound...
What I Owe to the Ancients
Turning to the stone,
the toiled frame of a sentenced man
turned, stood, alone.
Pressing against the boulder,
he likened the round rock
to a crystal ball of grave insight...
Wherefore Art Thou, Romeo?
Where art thou, Romeo?
Don’t you wish you were better beheaded,
than face the face star crossed lovers always dreaded?
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
For the moment when thou art to be?
For the poor player thou art to see?
How art thou, Romeo?
Will you think your toil shall suffice,
or will you remain as a lover in disguise?
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
For the brave new world that hath such women in it?
For the walking shadow thou art as a candle lit?
What art thou, Romeo?
Will your eyes blink with my heartbeat,
will you speak with affections, or find lines to repeat?
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
The offending shadow thou truly art?
A tale told by an idiot before we depart?
By JPV
Copyright March 2006