Ban

I think with iambic pentameter I need to give my images more space and explain them more otherwise it is too dense. I've written a poem about my good friend who died a couple of weeks ago. He would laugh at me for it because he hates poetry but he's a passionate subject to write about so here is my first draft:

Up late at night we talked of God and cigs.

He often made me tea, I gave him figs.

He's gone from this world now with no goodbye

I don't begrudge him that despite my cry

Of pain at losing Ban the Buddhist monk

Whose friendship knew no bounds, my dharma punk.

He came to A and E because I bled,

E'en though we never went to the same bed.

Our friendship was so great, not gender-based.

Before girls notice that boys smell of poo,

Before boys think that girls are silly too,

And long before they think of any touch.

And so we talked of Mooji and gurus much

He talked me out of being the Chosen One,

And so goodbye I say now he has run.

This poem ends too soon, and so did Ban.