|CASKETS IN PSYCHEDELIC COLORS|
Like an archer's bow, his body arches, young and plaint,
Against the wind, but the machete he holds, taut and
Strong, he keeps swinging, swatting, with a sing song
Twang against the firm, straight cane.
Succulent and sticky, its juice oozes -- anemic, one
Mutter, and truly, with one bold stroke, it topples
Down - no whining. No complaining.
Green, brown or magenta, but for its rainbow hue, its
Head, with headgears green, folded, like a dancer's
There and here.
On its brow are straight ones - a diadem, gray, soft with
Feathery sheen, tickled by the wind, sun and rain.
Now it lies in bundles, row on row.
Death to the twig less creatures, you say?
Its foot, its head, like orphans, severed
And laid in groups. With grunts it is
Picked on calloused shoulders, and neatly
Stacked on open cabooses that lead to
Giant, grotesque maws of hungry centrals.
Brown gold on the canvas it is painted. Yellow
Mung beans, a handful or two in a liter of water,
Salt, cabbage and sauce. Brown skin from the
Scorching sun, biting wind drenching rain.
Brown pay envelopes with myriad of deductions/
Golden Impalas, one, two or three. Golden mansions\
Golden earrings or rings.
The laborers, planters and millers - exploiters, suckers
Will one day share with each other neatly
Laid row on row, caskets in
Psychedelic colors they cannot choose.
Summerville, South Carolina
|JOEL COLINCO, 80, Summerville, is another newcomer to the growing circle of Senior Poets Laureate who contribute to GOLDEN WORDS. His biographical sketch gave little personal information other than birthdate, gender and occupation as a retired physician. His sign is Sagittarius.