Avid the eye

ghazal

He preaches on and on of beauty
that night he scrubs his hands of beauty.

An arrow through this tender part
a pool of blood the price of beauty.

A spheroid floats overhead
A catch — the crowd is rapt with beauty.

The eldest daughter now grown frail —
To wish we’d bottled up her beauty.

That last chocolate was mine!
you can’t conceal this theft of beauty.

A sheen of sweat coats our bodies.
Two miles to go, my lead-foot beauty.

Mad Sam his eyes burnt by the sun
now walks both days and nights through beauty.

Your husband and my wife both know
this never was a case of beauty.

She hates and fears what she might see,
Think “metamorphosis,” sweet beauty.

A gas cloud crawls the Galaxy:
collapsing, gravitating, beauty.

A dozen inches, slick with slime,
this cutthroat trout’s a drop-dead beauty!

The needle doesn’t even sting.
Jane plummets narcotized past beauty.

Four thousand million years ago,
a blue-white firmament roared “beauty.”

The tail regenerates a newt;
her heart’s grown back and pumping beauty.

“At least I’ve got my health,” he sighed.
That night he lost both that and beauty.

To drift through Midtown mouth agape,
astonished at slim slips of beauty.

So stupid! Roger gained the world
and lost his final chance at beauty.

It tastes like year-old wedding cake.
It is a twelve-course feast of beauty.

He faints, he foams, he speaks in tongues;
a miracle of demon beauty.

She went out singing to the end
a victim of both lies and beauty.

The fluid — oh! and oh the blood,
we are too young to bear such beauty.

Our name is Legion, call us Rich,
We’re out twisting in fields of beauty.

Originally published: 2007/10/20 15:31:53

Frabjous Times