PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I thought of cutting off the foot, 

finding the well of rusted luck hidden 

in the now calm sandy furrow 

seven years quicker then the life of a man 

and amorous toward the sport. 

My memory 

drifts uncalled, stuck to rousing visions of pleading eyes 

once innocent, trained to a northern point,

testing the air out of cage. 

Whisker compasses tender set to kissing fading breezes 

With careful passion barely past both our reaches 

Slender lobes, lined pink, 

are braced to them and we dance in their indigo wilds 

as they touch down on the green

pulling our timid souls forward 

in an explorer’s solid pact, like a broken arrow, strictly aimed

near open sky while paving a rough trek to find a flash of bold joy 

In warmer seasons stolen.

Now free to run in the marigold reflection,

chasing the rebel spirit 

nimble, with no dates to be late for, 

or prints left to trail. 

Brush gives a soundless cover but I’ll forever keep an open ear