' the pub owner '
the brackish taste of his own sweat
begs a parole from the gulag
of daily drudgery,
of the mayonnaise
the ploughman's grub
the bittersweet cocktail,
served to the visitors
filling his space ,
where laughters intersect
the inside atmosphere ,
so he moves outward
to throw birdfeed
to the passerine
to the meadowlark
perched on their cherished haunt
a tree without a leaf
without a shade
of schadenfreude ..
/ original / z.g.
[ .. to everyone-everywhere -
` a very merry christmas ! ]
Oh...I feel intersected here in a flow of special words..!
ReplyDelete.. u r right ' if '
ReplyDeletei feel the same way ..
many thanks ..
ReplyDeleteTo be loved as those birds....
ReplyDeleteThis is a special piece - it is truly felt.
ReplyDeleteLovely one :D....Have to admit, I need to rush to dictionary to understand few words.
ReplyDeleteI had to find the definition of the last word... when I did... my first reaction, was Wow.
ReplyDeleteIt made the whole poem pop with meaning. This moved me deeply.
~April
Yes the gulag is the key to understanding the sense impressions of people's humble daily actions - for some a gulag - for others paradise you so see this in your work. thanks
ReplyDeleteSuch an interesting poem! Yes- I hit the dictionary as well- learned some new words- thanks!!! Happy Holidays!
ReplyDelete