Diamond Among Dead Empires

some poetry makes you sit up and think

some poetry makes you sit down and sink

some just makes you

the ink spills and then and then and then

~

and then there is some that is garbled nonsense

garbled nonsense, dressed in barbed wire

with barbs around your lips, if you imagine

a mouth with barbs.

~

and a body, slovenly, but dressed in the finest

silks and oils from the eastern side of the known

world we know

silks coating the oil-soaked skin of the lady

we all know that lady

of Egyptian stock

of Arabian beauty

a mirage in a sandy dune where no watery oasis

can quench your thirst for something more than

the breasts of a lady, the oily breasts

the oily silken breasts of a lady of eastern origin

~

soft and pert, her skin is, not her breasts

they are covered and coated in the finest

to offer dignity for her beauty

her feminine charms

her hair is tied back and plaited

restrained and reframed as not taken but

tamed

a volatile and weaponised word

but not here

~

here she is the queen, the diamond

in the sand, among the shells and crust

the dead skin of the dead empires

she sits among

of old

of great

~

her movements are slight, deliberate

but not conceited.

world-weary but with abandon bestowed to only the greatest

of muses

I sought to grab

I sought to know

her, in her many guises

~

though of eastern origins

her roots

they spread

her seeds

they sprout

in lands of foreigners

to her and her kind

~

as I wrestle

with her majesty

while taking quill to parchment

soiling the blank

with her presence,

her magnificence

~

She commanded armies

and conquered us all

with cruelty,

sensuality

and subtle kindness

nourishing us all,

bringing forth progress

enlightenment,

at her staff,

her rod,

her sceptre

~

with each new

empire

they grow and crumble

she remains

eternal

~

her blood

her elixir

drains

spills

splashes

the parchment

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: While having a comments chat with the formidable John Cox, we were talking about the idea of an unofficial challenge for bad poetry writing, because it would mean we didn't have to praise one another in the comments section so much. While chatting, I wrote this. It's not, in my opinion, bad, and probably one of my favourite "pretentious" poems. Which is saying a lot, if you've read any of my most recent offerings. Anyway. There you go.

Here is a link to John.