Gatsby’s Prayer: Based loosely on the Great Gatsby, by F.Scott Fitzgerald

The ripest fruits,

grew upon the medial of my bosom,

did they not?

My love, tell me

doth my nectar be the sweetest of sorts?

Then, why does thee proclaim,

the alms be sour?

Lo! See there, the golden chariot!

See, the silver harp.

Wraps sewn in silk!

Look at me! The forlorn man whom prays,

for thy gentle caress, from thee

my Goddess.

I may bestow, the riches of Earth to you.

Ah! But they are not heaven, not your sort...

For all I’ve toiled, ruminate, and sought.

My Goddess whom doth come from kingdom of west

I drudge, all in travail for you!

Thee art’ the white, the flower, I dare not pick.

But who’s visage,

I long to caress.

The fragrance of one so pristine.

Who’s stem, hold so strong.

Petals of lovely, white.

Whom shan’t, yet cannot be uprooted..

From the Garden of Eve

thy eternal garden, where,

all pretty flowers live and flourish.

“ Beware, yea men from far and wide.

For whence winter makes

his deploring arrival.

All thee in thy garden of sun and fruits

shall whiter away too.”

Reviews

[Kestrova]

An absolutely lovely piece, that reaches out and grabs the reader's attention. The imagery is truly captivating and I loved the last verse!

[Star Wolf]

This was a fun read, different than most writings on here. It made me think of poetry of the 1800s or perhaps early 1900s. Very impressive job and this is one awesome poem!

[shoaib]

beyond beautiful ... what a sparkling gem of literature
thanks for the warm welcome
so glad i came to your page now :)
S