It is a tragedy, this burlesque of good intent -
a morbid quest to wear deathly black & grey,
off-set by an apron with white polka-dots on
red - while I prefer my colours surely sweet
I hate the haggard grey and acrid black, in my
donning a carmine pyjama top, carnation scarf
& silver-white wrap I’m once again me, feeling
the warmth - whereas this barbarous and
ice-cold red, black, & grey depresses the joy
of feeling Bruno lying at my feet in an azure
blanket - no sharing my silver wrap with a dog,
carnation scarf in line-of-sight and Steve Irwin
Swimming with crocodiles on screen, I’m warm
again in carmine heaven; Bruno heats my feet
and sight becomes tactile charm - recalling our
school colours were red, black and grey -
Even my spirit won’t relive that …
[2nd revision]
It’s a tragedy, this burlesque of good intent in
a moping quest to be clad in deathly black and
grey, off-set by an apron with white polka-dots
on red - while I prefer my colours sweet
I hate the hard deathly grey and pitch black, by
donning a carmine pyjama top, carnation scarf
and silver-white wrap-around I was me again -
feeling the warmth I see; whereas ice-cold
Bloodthirsty red, black, and grey makes me feel
depressed, for Bruno laying at my feet an azure
blue blanket - no sharing my shining silver wrap
with a dog, carnation scarf in line-of-sight
Steve Irwin swimming with crocodiles on screen
I’m in carmine heaven warmth; Bruno heats my
feet and sight becomes tactile charm - besides
our school colours were red, black and grey
My spirit don’t wish to relive that time…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem