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Poems

Rob Rutledge  May 2014
Shrike
Rob Rutledge May 2014
Across the Savannah we sailed
Floating through the slipstream
Of desire.
Higher we rose, to thorny heights.
Embraced by wings
Of fire.
A kingdom freely given turns to rust
Citadel walls fall in blizzards of dust.
The air is displaced by talons
That grip from ankle to throat.
Clawing and scratching,
A  noose,
A rope.

Upon the steppe I lay,
Impaled upon your
Tree of pain.
Barbed through the heart,
Saved for a rainy day.
Sekitei Hara  Nov 2010
A tree,
A tree, split with an battle-ax, sticks.
Voice of a shrike.
a m a n d a  Jan 2015
the shrike
a m a n d a Jan 2015
i used to feel
   such tenderness
a calm assurance of truth

now i am hard
   poised to strike
*i am no one's soft place to land