This Poem is a Con Sequence

Where do all the cabaret nuns go?

Do they steal out into the hail and thunder
on the bones of bad weather
like a deranged glorious ensemble
to banish the ghosts that would otherwise
tear the sky asunder?

Do they acrobat their way
in avenging worship, disguised
in Egyptian wigs and birthday suits?

And whilst all that’s going on,
why is the ocean yawning with sorrow?

Did it swallow more truth
than it could contain,
too fierce and sudden
and open to persuasion?

Don’t ask me, I just work here.

Better yet, ask Rimbaud.
It’s his dream.

 © N. Nazir 2021

Gregory Corso

Written for Shay’s Word Garden where the word pool has been sourced from the poems of Gregory Corso. Words used: acrobat, birthday, bones, Egyptian, fierce, ghost, glorious, nuns, ocean, Rimbaud, sorrow, steal, weather, wig, yawns (changed to yawning).

*I really ought to read some Rimbaud. And I didn’t even know who Gregory Corso was until this prompt. Ask me about grammar though, I know a little bit about that. Though of course, who cares about grammar when you’re writing poetry? 🙂

32 thoughts on “This Poem is a Con Sequence

  1. fireblossom32

    Okay, I really liked that stanza that begins “did it swallow more truth…” but when I got to that final stand-alone line I went “OH-HO!!!” That is just the perfect capper, unexpected, and perfect. LOVE that! I also like how you broke up “consequence” in the title. So glad to have you at the word list, Sunra!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. You did a fine job with all this. Really, what do I know about the two gentlemen? I was at the cemetery where Gregory Corso is buried but didn’t find his grave (or there would be a photo). I know of him but haven’t read him (much). Ah, now I read in Wiki that his ashes were deposited at the foot of the grave of poet Percy Bysshe Shelley… His grave I did find!

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I love every word of this, Sunra. From the tongue-in-cheek, to the fires of surreal conjecture, the poem is a boat full of well-etched follies and conceits, floating buoyantly on an ocean of the unknown–as good poetry does. It’s all a voyage, and a dream, and I just love the images you’ve brought to life–the title, the cabaret nuns, the bones of bad weather, the entire deft turn from middle to close. Just a great pleasure to encounter this morning. Happy Holidays and Solstice to you, as the dark hours finally begin to decrease.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hedgewitch, you amaze me with your comments honestly. They are just beautiful to read! You can’t possibly be talking about my poems! I love the way you see into the poem, it’s such a delight. Thank you humbly and gratefully, you are so kind ❤


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