Wednesday, March 23, 2011


I would steal the light from the dawn,
in the darkness bring it to you only.
I would steal the magic-horn
from the pure-white unicorn
because I know, girl, you are lonely.
With the dawn-light you'd rise above,
with the horn you would point to love.

It comes as no surprise to me
you now act as though you're the queen-bee.
They start to demand matrimony
or else. Or else what Thai Miss Lee?

I will tell you of the fairytale
when a poet was to sail
in a boat down at the docks
out the port area of Bangkok,
making his way to Pattaya's beach
where from the sea a hand would reach
and turn his boat upside down.
The poet was sure that he'd drown
as the lady with a pearly grin,
a snaky-body and a fish's fins
dragged him to her sisters' nest
on a sunken ship with a treasure chest.
There her sisters upon the wreck
hung precious jewels around his neck
"Now you are wealthy as a lord.
This shall be your royal reward.
What you've seen, go poet tell.
Such tales do poets speak so well.
Tell of we sisters down here.
Of the two worlds on this one sphere.
Speak of the maids who will bedeck
with jewels the young seafarers' necks
should they seek us for a bride
that we might sit royally by their side.
Not for nought bestow we riches.
You see before you the ocean-witches."
Their voices heard inside his head,
back to the surface he was led.
Poets know of magic, of sorcery,
spellbound are they by land and sea
when the Muse opens up their eyes
to the beauty of the earth and skies.
Atop a dolphin he was to ride
the rest of the way, on the inward tide.
He'd tell his tale, as the poets do,
though only poetic-souls believe them true.

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