Poetry: Last Night I Dreamt A Heretic Dream
Last night I dreamt a heretic dream;
I dreamed about a Standup club,
where God himself was doing jokes.
But no one seemed to get His jokes
and no one laughed inside the pub.
The audience sat silently
and drank their beers, or wines or drinks -
they were not laughing, with their drinks
but all kept quiet, benignantly.
They didn’t like Him very much,
but did not hate Him, even though
He kept on joking. Even though
He was no Joker, none as such.
And here is the heresy:
Not that God was in that place, because God wanders everywhere!
Not that they were drinking, God does not to silly rules adhere!
Not that God was doing jokes, God does, have done and always will!
No herein lies the heresy:
God is not boring!
Laughs a-roaring
is His voice, His face, His will!
Älskar!
Trodde först det var fråga om en sonett, men slutet var annorlunda än sonettens. (Den förenklade, engelska sonetten, då.)
Men snyggt, snyggt, snyggt! Varför har jag inte läst dikter av dig förut?
Vackert!
Allan – tack.
MiaD – Kul att du gillar’t. Jag skriver en del poesi, men det är väldigt lite som hamnar så att andra kan läsa det. Jag lovade mig själv och bloggen i april att jag skulle börja skriva mer poesi. Så förhoppningsvis (?) kommer det lite nya grejer nu och då, här.