Monday, July 28, 2014

And So It Was - by Bob Atkinson

A Whiter Shade of Pale

Poemwriters: Booker, Reid, Fisher
we skipped the light Fandango
turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kind of seasick
but the crowd called out for more

the room was humming harder
as the ceiling flew away
when we called out for another drink
the waiter brought a tray

and so it was that later
as the Miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly
turned a whiter shade of pale

she said there is no reason
and the truth is plain to see
but I wandered through my playing cards
and would not let her be

one of sixteen vestal virgins
who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open
they might just as well've been closed


she said, 'I'm home on shore leave,'
though in truth we were at sea
so I took her by the looking glass
and forced her to agree

saying, 'You must be the mermaid
who took Neptune for a ride.'
but she smiled at me so sadly
that my anger straightway died
if music be the food of love
then laughter is its queen
and likewise if behind is in front
then dirt in truth is clean


my mouth by then like cardboard
seemed to slip straight through my head
so we crash-dived straightway quickly
and attacked the ocean bed


and so it was that later
as the Miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly
turned a whiter shade of pale

and so it was


And So It Was
(c)Bob Atkinson
to stop and tell a story
to those who hadn't gone
has quick implications
being right or wrong


doesn't really matter
do we tell the truth in all
we say, do, denunciate
or do we just revolve


around those reflexed feelings
what seems comfortable today
in feeding image of self-worth
or contentment toward our graves


to set in motion accolades
and minds tuned to a song
garners ornamental tweets
allows us to belong


to a mood of indecision
strictly aberated in some way
you think it normal tuning out
some think it's moon gyrated

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