MS (8.4.1929 / Marton, Lancashire)

Bki:V Treacherous Girl

What slender boy, Pyrrha, drowned in liquid perfume,
urges you on, there, among showers of roses,
deep down in some pleasant cave?
For whom did you tie up your hair,

with simple elegance? How often he’ll cry at
the changes of faith and of gods, ah, he’ll wonder,
surprised by roughening water,
surprised by the darkening storms,

who enjoys you now and believes you’re golden,
who thinks you’ll always be single and lovely,
ignoring the treacherous
breeze. Wretched are those you dazzle

while still untried. As for me the votive tablet
that hangs on the temple wall reveals, suspended,
my dripping clothes, for the god,
who holds power over the sea.

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Comments (5)

Simply expressed. Says everything it should, and a sweet read. Love Ernestine XXX
I think this is perfect. That, to me, is exactly what a poem should do....let me see from your eyes, hear what you heard, feel what you felt. I really like this Michael. I think it says alot with so few words. Sincerely, Mary
Is there anything more a poem can do? I think not. Rusty
Brilliant Micheal! ! Can't believe you managed to sum it all up so neatly, no perfectly! I love it Moyaxx and I felt it!
I never thought of it in that sense Michael. This is a great tribute summing up all that needs to be said, without hyperbole and with great economy.