Oh sweet purple puddle
You don’t taste like drugs
But you set straight my muddle
From the vessel of mugs
From my day bed I struggle
Common like the sense
The door is a jar
The sea is a fence
Hence the sneezing is blessed
With sweet purple defence
As I ride on the crest
Of past and present tense
But oh sweet purple majesty
Your drugs are well hid
You stay and play and jest with me
Like illness never did
1 comment:
I just like this poem so much. You have such a way with rhythm, and I rarely find rhymed poetry today that works this well. "common like the sense / the door is a jar / the sea is a fence / hence..." I guess it must be your songwriting that gives you this knack.
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