I decided to dedicate a small playful ode to the kidney stone that so complicated my life a year and a half ago. My folk say that one must laugh at adversity, since crying is of no use:
"It feasts on flesh, banquets on bone,
or quick, it gobbles body whole.
A grain well placed will urge you prone,
Not love but sand takes such a toll.
A germ that grows on salted ground,
in taut terrain, nephritic night.
A pearl, wet desert rose, ignite
this wraith into a question wound.
You jade me, nephrite, graven gem;
your wanton wound, unfaithful ail,
predicted death and bade me pale,
my petals plucked but spared my stem.
I thank thee for that sleepless time,
in Orwell's wing (eighty fourth ward),
its Telescreens, my piddle poured
and turned to wine; but most, this rhyme."
in best Ukrainian tradition, indeed :-)
ReplyDeleteVictor
Your folk are right! Great Poem, you with so much humour within. well done, you.
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