Satchel, Sun and turmeric;
Scarab, boat, Egyptian candlestick.
Sunbeams are a craze that’s hard to touch;
Saffron’s worth much more than what is told
And you, who did not ask for much
Will haggle for what isn’t sold,
Writhe on prongs of pondering;
Quarry, blast and pan to simply have and hold,
Shunning inner pots of gold;
Declining to panhandle
By light of that self-searching candle;
Deify the mould and bless the predicate:
There is a feast, you’ll find too late,
All meat and spice allowed go cold.
The road to God knows where ... Brendan O'Brien 
Is this one of yours Brendano? It reads like a song. It also reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite catch it.
Hello Isobel. Yes, it’s one of mine. Let me know if you catch it. 🙂
A Very Pompous Poem.
Good morning, Cymbeline.
If you say so. 🙂
It is just that I think that one can never know what goes on in people’s inner lives.
These lines alone from ‘One More’ beat this poem by miles and miles :
‘Lean to kiss
Your utter grace’
Thanks, Cymbeline. One can’t know what goes on in people’s inner lives … it’s what some of them blurt out that would have prompted this. But I think you’re right … it does seem pompous and misconceived to me now. I’m glad of the feedback.
Perhaps I was trying to impart a message of sorts, which of course is an error.
I like those lines you quote too, and the ‘One More’ poem. I can hear it in my head … it has a pretty good rhythm.
Not just the rhythm. The poet kisses inner complexity, and sees inner grace, rather than judging and imparting lessons.