Home Page | 2008 Ghazals | 2007 Ghazals | Prose | Links | Information | Email | Archives
Can we think of anything sweet and not think of sugar?
There are just two many things that remind us of sugar.
We all have inner pulsing passions for pleasures of a sugarland.
It isn't just bears who hibernate and search for honey-flowing sugar.
We are always searching new horizons like so many venturers before,
willing to sail seas and oceans in our quest for exotic spices and sugar.
When I taste your sweetness within with a kiss,
It's no wonder that I seek all your sweetness of sugar.
Gliding over the curves and mounds of your body quivering with
whispering traces, soft and delicate as an Acuna baby eating sugar.
Like dazzling sugar crystals your eyes sweeten
my longings for your gift of sugarland.
Baby Ben, you loved all the sweets of boyhood sugar.
Now Big Ben, you can't easily do without sugar.
Remembrances of my childhood nose pressed snugly against a blockade of glass.
A brightly-colored audience of confections, row on row, laughed at my morass.
The aromatic, candy Sirens, beneath that glass, sat on shores I could not reach.
My single, solitary penny could not deliver me out of my impasse.
The white, sandy, raw material of these untouchable delights taunted me.
The keeper of the confection counter dumped great lumps into a demitasse.
The chocolate-dipped strawberries, the divinity fudge, the pralines, the truffles
All gathered round, first in my head, then above my head, staring into my crevasse.
Reaching out toward those unreachable things, grabbing at what I could not have
Brought me unfulfillable desire, which is, perhaps, the sweetest thing, alas.
A year and a day, begun like sugar,
turned bitter and sharp, quite unlike sugar.
A candy, sandy lolly-pop summer,
still taste it on the tongue like sugar.
Seaside rock and tins of toffee,
kiss me quick, it's fun, like sugar.
She wanted to eat him all up, so greedy,
sprinkle him on a bun, like sugar!
Candy floss sunsets set them dreaming,
rosy cloud shapes spun like sugar.
Playtime over, time to go home now,
sad sticky fingers clung like sugar.
Grown-up taste's for salt and sour,
dark black coffee, now no one likes sugar.
You see, Lucy, the sifting crystals,
the sands of time all run like sugar.
The mountains loomed high, the valleys of rivers reflected sparkling crystals all of sugar.
There were beets and there were canes and as far as the eye could see just sugar, sweet sugar.
Nothing black, nothing sour, not even a hint of bitterness
from east to west, north to south in this landscape of sugar.
My eyes licked those mountain slopes, my lips slurped up
those valley streams sprinkled with crystals of sugar.
Sliding down the mountains, skittering down,
a mountain slide of sugar — miles and miles of sugar.
White stallions thundering over the plains, white rabbits scampering
over the hills - invisible against vast sheets of snow sugar.
Sounds of music flooding through earth's atmospheric filter,
all I can hear now is the resonant sounds of sugar.