Other Than Body

Poem By OWEN I.A. ROCHE

Other than body of woman,
the grace of wine
and words that leap between minds,

is stasis only, unhuman;
in disciplined line
the days would stretch to gray death.

Heroes and ants, you may grovel
before the grubs
that feed to breed the new slaves,

who obediently will shovel
a hole for me
among your similar graves.

Comments about Other Than Body

Fine work, Mr Roche. You have a way with words. Thanks for the pleasure of reading a well-wrought poem.


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Other poems of ROCHE

222

Go now greenly into brown
and shed the dead outerness
serenely, as maid gown,
as life body, as cicada skin.

Owen 1970

You and all are wanderers
in the night where dragons prowl
and the unbelievable beasts
of undermind rage and growl

My Grandfather The Tailor

My grandfather the tailor was a stocky Ukrainian.
By day he worked in the sweat shops,
By evening cold chicken and tea.
A lump of sugar for him and one for me.

This Death Some Will Lament

This death
some will lament
remembering brief flames,
but to you,

Caipe

oh come to me
my l' il honey lips
we'll sip the wine
and in between the sips

Love Of Owen Roche

I shall write you a song, little
you have thorns but you're my kind of flower
we'll go live in an ivory tower
and I'll make up a whole song for you