Sunday, January 6, 2008

Coins

Shimmering silver,
Jing-a-ling-a-ling,
Coins in my pocket,
my thigh they sting...

Feeling wretchedly rich
I walk the street,
Thinking candyfloss
would be such a treat...

Crafting large pink clouds
The large old man,
Stands with a grin
at the candyfloss-van...

. . .

My coins are gone,
in exchange that morn
for that fluffy pink thing
that can't jing-a-ling!

Jing-a-ling-a-ling,
Coins we fling,
Evening and dawn;
Would we value anything
If coins were gone?

3 comments:

Kalyan said...

lovely words...the words have a musical rhythm in them...beautiful poem!

little boxes said...

wow,man!!!
thou art the master of philosophical rhyme...
*hail*

Angika said...

It took me some time to figure out the idea behind this! The idea is nice, but it doesn't flow.