Yes, every poet needs a Beatrice,
An angel hailed with an iambic kiss,
A spectral love lost in the mists of time,
A face saluted with nostalgic rhyme,
A saintly soul with sweet compassionate eyes
Whom lovestruck sonneteers must canonize,
An icon greeted with a swinging thurible
Of lyric incense and longing incurable.
But how would she, his idol and his muse,
React to all his praises (so profuse)?
She'd think, "Such terrible clichés! Why can't he
Give it a rest? He's certainly no Dante!"
Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas
Read 195 times
Written on 2017-07-27 at 04:57
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