Paul Hartal Poems
|361.||Punic Tragedy, Roman Genocide||2/10/2013|
|363.||They Come In Seven Sexes||7/14/2013|
|364.||Democracy Vs. Dictatorship||11/29/2013|
|365.||Oranges And Grapes||4/28/2013|
Oranges And Grapes
Oranges and grapes refuse to grow in the cold.
Today I sing and dance, refuse to grow old.
Yet all the same, time is tyrant and ruthless,
Unfolds my wrinkling years, it is relentless.
Now and then the lots seem to be gentle and kind,
But alloyed with fate the somnambulist is blind.
Luck and fortuity might act as a soubrette,
Life spins our fate like roulette in a film set.
Still, let us drink to life, celebrate, and be glad,
Let us sing and dance today, refuse to be sad.
Oranges and grapes do not grow in the cold,
A warm wind ties ribbons to maple ...
My life is a Corinthian acanthus leaf
On an intricately carved classic column
Enchanted pellucid palace
Silent opaque sandglass
On an amethyst shelf
From circle to sphere.
My works are gothic objects