Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Solarte: The Poem

A warm, sunny day.
A sea food buffet.
A fling in the hay.
Solarte... in May.

A song out of tune.

Street crime in Rangoon.
A nightmare swoon.
Solarte... in June.

A routine pop fly.

A darkening sky.
A long, anguished sigh.
Solarte... July?
Solarte... good-bye.


Local Bargain Jerk said...

Our machine has cog rust,
And is coated with frog pus,
Solarte was a dog just,
Like the Yankees in August.

[written from an iPhone on a Prague bus.]

ceeja said...

Sooo - lar - tay
Uh Ohhhh
Sooo- lar -tay,
No, no, no, no, no

Shane Spencer
K. Mass;
Ron the Boomer,
No, no, no Mas!

Hands of stone;
Bat of Glass;
Oh fuck it;
Bring back K. Maas.

So lar tay
Uh Ohhh
So lar tay
No, no, no, no, no

Willy said...

Soft! What light bat through Yangervis's closing window breaks?