Don Juan… by Osalam Wosu 


The room stands still-

Narcissistic fumes on which we choke

Seeping through the cracks of his impenetrable hide.

Many a limb of women he broke 

With a fiery gaze and  hands of pride

With Cupid-grazed lips, each word he spoke 

   and poisoned by lust they slumped and died.

His face a merely deathly cloak

Demons that slay, to come out cried.



‘Pon the beast’s fur, I pray don’t poke

‘cept you crave to be his bride.

And suffer the consequence of an unending yoke.

Forever envious and happiness denied.

Eros has thus spent his life force 

crafting his perfect image of clay 

And upon women unleashed his curse 

   their hearts for him always  to slay.



 Por izquierda y derecha:

They fall as soldiers ambushed by gods 

In halls their hearts as trophies he mounts;

Ladies of court and wives of Lords:

The tallies he smites, and everyday counts.

And on and on, as his craving burns 

Frame sublime to all he flounts 

His snare for prey to which he hunts 

That damsels might be lured to the lair of hounds.

       –Osalam Wosu 

©2017 2edged Pen



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