<h1>Poetry's a notion</h1>

Some of you (well, maybe one or two) have asked me to write some of my poetry in my blog. The poems that have appeared earlier, while the words were original, the tempo and foundation were based on songs. When I re-read my own poetry, I think it is not very good but my son showed me one I had written decades ago. As I remember, it was based on a story I was reading about the sex trade in Denmark. I think this is not bad, Probably the only one worth posting. After this, I shall not inflict myself upon you further.

The Streets of Copenhagen

On the streets of Copenhagen,
Supine, and bathed in red,
I found a woman bleeding
From the thorns around her head

I stroked her hair, then gently
Placed two coins upon her eyes,
A genuflect to try to catch
The screams between her sighs.

If only this were real,
She whimpered in her sleep,
Perhaps we might have had a life
And lived beyond the street.

If only we were lovers
But I knew her soul was dead,
And I was growing kind of weary
Of the nails in our bed.

I stooped to say the right things,
But it came as no surprise,
She was just an empty savior
Full of saccharine and lies.

She wiped her eyes with steel wool.
Her arms stretched out to keep
The shadow that could never mend
The wounds upon our feet.

Lust became confusion,
And demanded to be free;
I told her I forgave her
And she did the same for me.

In the streets of Copenhagen
Where love is found for rent
It doesn't really matter
How your dignity is spent