2 poems

by horace p sternwall

illustrated by rhoda penmarq

lament no more castles, not even on the rhine no more kisses, sweet as cherry wine no more princesses, pretty as they may be no more sailors home from the sea no more moonbeams, dancing on the lawn or knights in shining armor - they are all gone no more avowals of eternal love no more angels, descending from above no more journeys to distant lands across raging rivers and burning sands no more kingdoms to be won or silver towers flashing in the sun even the stars have taken flight on the silent street a single light guards the entrance to the temple of dreams where the huddled masses explode in screams the streets are deserted the heathen are converted the arena gives a final shout and the light goes out the game of life death approaches fasta and fasta but i never learned to play canasta to the powers that be i never truckled or learned to play backgammon or pinochle sad to say, i must confess to being the world's worst player at chess poker - don't get me started my cash and i were quickly parted in long afternoons in the conservatory shade with harris the butler i played old maid bud the chauffeur with the wooden leg taught me jacks and mumbly peg those, to my eternal shame were the best that i could do at games and when the roll is called up yonder my wretchedness i will surely ponder