by jim benz
When in heaven they said Hell. Was it hell for them.
Once they said Oyster.
We countered with Foie Gras Mousse.
Can you smile for appearance sake.
Are we dignified and merry.
Have they the proper understanding.
“Ascending pure, the bell-like fame.”
Our place in life.
Who wields the shovel
And who does not.
We speak at great length about weather.
Smile politely over Cocktails.
And we swallow.

0 thoughts on “Bacchanalia

  1. I can sense an attempt at “tremendous” here, but I’m not sure this pulls it off. I’ve read many of Jim’s poems and this one seems somewhere outside of his best voice.

  2. Interesting comment. As with all poems, it just comes from trying to write something good. Different voices, for me, is almost the heart of experimentation – how to capture a voice in print, one that reflects back on content. Frankly, if this were my better voice, I’d be worried! Thanks Travis.

  3. I understand completely. I have different voices I use to relay different things. The straightforward, the cryptic, the stream of thought, etc. so I’m not critiquing that. I’m glad to see you are experimenting and always look forward to reading them.

  4. I can’t help feeling if a poet writes and submits a piece entitled “Bacchanalia” that they should accompany this with a photo of themself half-naked in goat leggins playing on a Pan flute from the chandalier to drunken forest nymphs. But that’s just me. lol.

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