Syllabub
By dumas
Mon, 13 Sep 2004
- 389 reads
SYLLABUB
No, do not talk to me, I will not listen.
I kowtow not to your gross intellect .
My nose , red raw , rubbed tender , flesh torn .
By words which mean nought .
I have not the language .
I too could have attained the heights ,
ignored backgrounds , time taken instilled the classics .
Univited -- Wandered those hallowed halls .
Marble portals drawing me in , enthralled .
Such knowledge was denied to me .
Plato , Socrates , Heracleteitus remain undiscovered .
So have your day ,
weave filgree patterns along the way .
My paltry Minerva leave far behind .
But do not talk to me .
I will not listen . . .
* * *
A Rostov
1999.
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