L X I X Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

And in Roman times, as in modern times,
hungry men pleasured in fawn.
'Twas a gladiators cup to imbibe from
after running blades 'cross th' necks of they
whose god or science were of different domains.

And, women turned warm, and ogled
at th' thought of their warrior's prowess,
losing purity at th' notion of bloodthirst
imbibing the pour of their heroes goblet
without the promise of mutual pleasure.

And sometimes at night, ther'd be heard,
an echo, of lions, on the wind....roaring
by th' black of an empty arena-
as th' warrior becomes the conqueror again
as the women bathe by a brook,
bare breasted, sponging one another,
with organdy cloth...soft as their flesh,
gentle as the rain through a forest, deep-
of each other as the warriors watch;
they know what's to come of this...
there be wine and honey in abundance.

And, come morning...the lions will sleep.


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Frank James Ryan Jr. / FjR