A chance encounter with a Texan Belle
Leads to lunch - the café at the zoo.
You wonder if there’s water in the well.
You wonder if there’s water in the well.
Do crocodiles get tired? How does one tell?
You wonder what the meat is as you chew.
You wonder what the meat is as you chew.
Most poets write at least one villanelle.
She takes you to the desert. And it’s hell.
Your dry cough’s captured by a camera crew.
You wonder if there’s water in the well.
You wonder if there’s water in the well.
Back home your life’s a cracked, unpolished shell.
Your Texan babe has left. What does one do?
Most poets write at least one villanelle.
Betrayal. Loss. And loneliness. That sells.
An empty sheet of paper. Start anew.
You wonder if there’s water in the well.
Most poets write at least one villanelle.
3 comments:
Found this when looking through some old poems. Thought I'd give it an airing.
Some lovely new poems here Roger - you have been busy!
As busy as a wasp.
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