quarters and curbside sermons

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Open Poetry #36

quarters and curbside sermons

Dark Stranger
Member Patricius

since 2001-03-19

Posts 13631
West Coast

0 posted 2005-12-16 07:23 AM

and now as I stand with stoic pen
at the pages of my contemplation
I listen to the riddled sounds
of the benders of metal and string

why do the man hounds prick their skin
on the scarlet roses of their vines
why do they bruise themselves easy
to make the wounds of their own gallop

if but not to taste the ebbing life
that leaks from their purposed efforts
if not to lick the savory of their wounds
with panting verve and prideful whine

and do they scream their voices to prayer
as do the dribble boys on their arks of oak
when they strum the drums of pointless
with swish swoosh’d whispering

and their ivory skins are a victor’s ebony
_________________

daark

LeeJ
Member Patricius

since 2003-06-19

Posts 13296

1 posted 2005-12-16 07:35 AM

why do the man hounds prick their skin
on the scarlet roses of their vines
why do they bruise themselves easy
to make the wounds of their own gallop

I believe because it is human nature to constantly seek...and somewhere along that path, some take the wrong path...loose what they know to be...

Outstanding write this morn...
Happy Friday

Sunshine

Administrator

Member Empyrean

since 1999-06-25

Posts 63354
Listening to every heart

2 posted 2005-12-16 07:46 AM

if but not to taste the ebbing life

~*~

a dusky sound
to the edge of hope, Sir...

and the ever willful

must...

that beats a heart.

Be stoic
more often...

Gentle Spirit
Member Patricius

since 2000-10-09

Posts 13989

3 posted 2005-12-16 08:45 AM

if but not to taste the ebbing life
that leaks from their purposed efforts
if not to lick the savory of their wounds
with panting verve and prideful whine

sometimes the whys of the whines are beyond my grasp Ds. Enjoyed this Friday morning write. Hugs.

majnu

Senior Member

since 2002-10-13

Posts 1088
SF Bay Area

4 posted 2005-12-17 12:36 PM

oh yeah, nice.

-majnu
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Timid thoughts be not afraid. I am a Poet.

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