The hurricane sits in the trees, the earthquake in the grass,
Shall I kiss the poison ivy, or cuddle the snake in the grass?

Windbags rant, the minions chant, a cataclysm is imminent,
Time to anoint the pirates, and entomb the sheikh in the grass.

Worker geese are stuff-taxed, that the parasites feast on foi gras,
Gorged with the orchard savage thugs will claim a stake in the grass.

Murmuring rivers, flourishing falls are cloistered in tall concrete,
Parched and starving caravan scrapes by snowflakes in the grass.

Uma for an ounce of wine they will undress many a vineyard,
Soaked with odours of death are the crusted mud cakes in the grass.

15 thoughts on “Pirates, Ahoy!

  1. It’s “relatively easy” to write a ghazal and stick to the form. It’s well-nigh impossible to turn it into a poem. You have made every thing count. Every couplet is like the splitting of a log. I never expected such strange juxtapositions of images – but it works! At one stage I thought you were “having us on” – and then it forced me to reflect…

    1. A ghazal that appeals to the reader must come from the heart, and it is a critical condition to its success. I must confess, this piece is more a product of an anguished mind than that sensate organ, and it’s perhaps not the most liquid of my efforts. Thank you ever so much, Bruce.

  2. We are all partners in crime, always ready to undress many a vine yard for an ounce of wine. As we progress in the name of civilisation, unfortunately more and more murmuring rivers and flourishing falls are are going to be cloistered in tall concrete.
    Then Gazhals like your can provide a faint ray of solace, I hope.

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