In The Islands (Rondeau Redoublé) Poem by Leslie Alexis

In the islands there's no winter; there is no snow,
From January to December the birds sing,
Until it's beheld there's harmony you'll never know;
Just imagine living life within unending spring.

Casting lines from verandas one can hook a king,
Who in homage to life's nurturing will gladly grow.
From many, this is my favorite thing:
In the islands there's no winter! There is no snow!

Living in the north, ice causes me woe,
You see, there's too much winter and not enough spring.
I would be content, if only it were so:
From January to December, birds could sing.

Born on the spice island I just love Welsi's wing,
Big flying kites and blue skies dressed in rainbow.
Indeed at twenty-four, I do fondly cling;
Until it's beheld there's harmony you'll never know;

This new depressed place is crafted by mister Poe;
Unlike his poems, it's held by one string.
But If this guy did this his depression would go:
Just imagine living life within unending spring.

The fresh sea breeze, handpicked mangoes; the joy they bring.
Now the thing that gives me joy is my T.V. show.
Heck, I miss it, all of it, down to the last bee sting.
Boy, I'd give anything to be the ugly crow
In the islands where the winds gently blow.

Copyright 2010 © Leslie Alexis