Treasure Island

Warren Falcon

(04/23/52 - xxxx / Spartanburg, South Carolina, USA)

In Excelsis Deo - A Surrealist Carol For Madrigal Choir To Be Sung While Bathing


.
Hair of soap and head of tears
rinse mine eyes of Christmas stars
O bells, the bells sear me

Wash my hair of splendid fears
water me hot and redly rare
O trumps, the trumpets blear me

Scars heal me up to here
scald me pinkly if you dare
O gay, the gay sleds slay me

Is that flesh floating on the surface me
who swims or sinks fraternally?

I know a strange me
with soap for eyes
and suds for see

Eternally yours,

He.

Submitted: Saturday, December 11, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (In Excelsis Deo - A Surrealist Carol For Madrigal Choir To Be Sung While Bathing by Warren Falcon )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. I resign, Nassy Fesharaki
  2. Prairie Fire, Keith Taylor
  3. One-Sided Faith, Edgar Albert Guest
  4. The First Rule Of Golf, Edgar Albert Guest
  5. The Women Of The Sailors, Edgar Albert Guest
  6. Not A Money Debt, Edgar Albert Guest
  7. A Friend's Greeting, Edgar Albert Guest
  8. Old-Fashioned Folks, Edgar Albert Guest
  9. Talking useless, gajanan mishra
  10. Answering Age, Edgar Albert Guest

Poem of the Day

poet Henry David Thoreau

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]