Revised sonnet #40
I cruised canal Taib noodled back and forth
I learnt it older aeons of late unearthed
I dreamt of big airships there barged or berthed
Of man made mistrals pushing south and north
Of crackling roman concrete coliseums
Their silver joints and granite spiral stairs
Their filter sands and soots in porous pairs
That buffeted till breathing water plumbs
The absent arrowheads of battlefields
And broken castles speak of sudden quake
Their golden age erased to found that fake
Ye olden writer violent strawmen wields
You dress in crackling silks against the odds
Yes drink the water drawn off lightning rods
Chorus odds likelihood vantage
