Half Drunk Muse Poetry

From the Archives...

Reflections of Papa

You said the bulls were lovely in Spain.
And they were when run by the matadors
In wine cloaks that play a muerte refrain.
(It was before I shipped to fight my war.)

You saw the rested dead in Italy.
(I saw. On the green hills of Africa
with African dead crying Somali.)
You hunted (I died) and drank of Kenya.

In Paris you found there was life in you,
“On peint si bien quand dans aux Paris,”
And no paint colored your belief in truth.
You ate, dined, died the unmovable feast.

(I am a coward. I saw death and ran.)
I wish never to be like you. But I am.

Submitted by Cliff Hightower Published in All Poems 1999-2004

About HDM

Half Drunk Muse was one of the first poetry ezines. It was founded in 1999 and ceased publication in 2006.

Questions/comments? Email samiller@halfdrunkmuse.com.