Anagram man

Assorted Poems, Some poems

Brian felt confused,
his brain out of order,
his reward was a prison,
without need of a warder.

For Pam was an anagram,
a crumpled map with no key
and while desserts often stressed him,
he’d gladly eat her for tea.

Maybe she was married
or had some other admirer?
But still hope’s thin flame resided
in his heart; he desired her.

He was held rapt in a trap
and would think of her hourly.
She was wordy, she was rowdy;
she might come with a dowry.

He felt angered. Enraged.
World-weary. Wired. Weird.
He couldn’t declare his feelings
until his head cleared.

He explored all the angles,
prayed to the angels above;
for he wasn’t filling a novel
but rather falling in love.