M. Fortenbrau

04 Oct


A complex man was M. Fortenbrau;
no staid had he, but emerald cloak,
no derisive will, but scornful brow,
minds were piqued if e’er he spoke;
wealth, he claimed, most esoteric;
no coin could buy him virtuous favor,
yet, years he spent as hedony’s cleric,
debauchery – his most sane endeavor;
shall I recount honorous accolade,
one might boast uncommon now,
or shall I then preside in his stead,
and sing in praise of M. Fortenbrau.

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Posted by on October 4, 2015 in My Poetry



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