Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Poetry: The Marketplace

Thank God it’s dawn anew,
And the sun is still snoring in the home of its rest.
Another Eke day is here again.
Come; make haste, all you faithful seekers
Of marital fortunes to the fair trade.
I don’t mean those whoring and flirting their youths away
In the Sun until they are wilted out husk
Of once upon a time roses in-bloom treaded
Now by Time’s shoes of disdain;
Easily taken by the noisome distractions afoot;
Don’t give them a fraction of your precious time,
If perchance you scan to note their sybaritic slants;
Or sham lain behind droop of their lovely lashes and rosy cheeks.
Let your transactional-eyes descend only upon bearers
Of resourceful wares, and the haggling skills contend
Round befitting nuptial rites of passage.
Whether or not the vows will endure is way beyond the poet’s purview;
But if God as love often counselled is the binding reason;
And not some fantastic stories of rainbows and unicorns;
And of nest-eggs stashed away in some piggy banks;
As may flow from salted-mouths of intending grooms;
Nor beauties lavished on the brides’ eyes;
Fair as gazelle on their heels;
But characters waiting to be tried in the crucible of marital vagaries;
Then count the days of your union to peace and fruitfulness,
But time as the unbeatable master,
Must unveil all to reality checks:
Must catches up with all and wrought changes;
And afflictions to test all loving and loyalty claim of newly-weds;
Wrinkles flecked once charming looks of radiant parlour-lanterns;
And the drifting hesitant at the altar of begging chances;
For sooner is the marketplace becomes deserted
Leaving late questers to scour from the remnants
Departing daily into the social wasteland
The lot of night scavengers at the deserted marital marketplaces. 

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