The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Bruce Bennett

AFTERMATH

Such innocence! Those were the days.

The smallest faintest word of praise

would set my cheeks and heart ablaze!

The merest slightest glance from you.

One eyebrow raised. Yes, such to-do;

such high emotions to work through.

Well, nothing lasts. Time took its toll.

The heart went out of it, the soul.

We lost our bearings, and our goal,

Which was, well, now it's hard to tell.

All seems, in retrospect, some spell:

that innocence, and how we fell,

And little lingers from those days,

although, some small faint word of praise

recalled, still sets my heart ablaze!

AT THE VETERANS CONVENTION

O, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

      as if I did not know.

You've met her, with her thousand charms.

      That glory and that glow

should set off buzzers and alarms!

      A toast, before I go.

Let's drink to Beauty. May she reign,

      since anyway she will.

Our Queen of pleasure and of pain,

      who wounds but does not kill,

may she who brings us bliss and bane

      remain our sovereign still.

You saw her, then she went away?

      Ah yes, a little more.

She took you to her room to stay

      the night, and kisses four

seemed just a start, but then the day

      broke on that cold cold floor?

Well, that's the way of it, my lad;

      it could have been much worse.

Considering the men she's had,

      the power of the curse,

I'd say you got off light. It's bad,

      but let's not call a hearse.

You need a little time to think;

      to mope, and to recover.

So first, let's have another drink.

      Though there are none above her,

her peers lurk at the bar and rink.

      Go choose another lover.