Poem: FANTASTIC ANNEX

An illusion drew a lady to my spade.
Lost in the valley of love.
On a broad space.
Where her broken heart drove.

I describe her not as a chimera.
Her chest an angels breast.
Her rips as natures camera.
Her beauty a golden brick.

She delude my brain.
With blooms of smokes.
With sparks of pain.
She is a blossom folk.

Her hairs as brairs.
She sleeps in her imagination.
She groans from the fares.
Her beauty is her definition.

Oh what a day dream.
In a realm so real.
Oh what a pipe dream.
In a film so real.

A prism of love.
A mirage of lust.
A fabrication list.
Folded up by my pretense.


By:
Beryl Rem (Promise Sylvester)
Dedicated to Newton Anna