by John Patrick Pazdziora
(Scot­land)

Be bold, be bold…

It was not so. You only heard the wind
Through the ivy against the west­ern gate.
You heard, and dreamed you saw the worst, and sinned,
For in this grue­some dream you plucked and ate.

It was not so. You saw blood in the track
Where there was only water under stone,
The white road at sun­set. Look back, look back
And see—who walks beside you, all alone?

And God for­bid that ragged muz­zle touch
Your neck or break your crown of asphodel
But fear of blood has made you taste too much
And fear dis­placed the bridal bed to hell
Burn­ing out—out—damn spot! It was not so
It was not so and God for­bid it should be so!

John Patrick Pazdzio­ra is an author, poet, and lit­er­ary schol­ar. He lives in Scot­land and writes The Para­dox­es of Mr Pond (http://mrpond47.wordpress.com).

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