The lizard made its way straight up the rock wall
Such adhesion on those rocks with his fragile-looking claws
What was he running from, or to, with such desert dignity
What would you call the motions of these little creatures
Bodies moving back and forth like other slithering reptiles
Brian Hill - 2019 # 251
Are you fascinated by lizards. Moving down here has brought a whole new appreciation to the little ones.
There's no one without flaws,
Like a paw without claws,
Fall seven,stand eight,
You are not your mistake,
Learn from it,
Before it's too late,
It's ok to fall,
To cry and bleed through it all,
It'll all make sense in the end,
Trust the journey,my friend.
For someone who needs it, including myself.
I have never claimed to be perfect.
I always admit to my flaws,
but somehow they can always force me to show my claws.
So I take a break.
I quickly pause,
because if I stop.
I will shatter from their barbed jaws.
Paralyzed with possibility;
These choices stun something within me.
Yearning to grasp what it is I want,
Whilst keeping myself chained. A taunt.
The animal within stirs up a chorus of growls,
The innocence slips past that thought which fouls.
My claws are sharp. My teeth, the same.
I am one who can not be tamed.
Owning a cat relies on give and take.
I give the beans a tiny squeeze and
she takes a chunk of my skin.
I love her but oh my gosh my arms are littered in little scars.
beware of those
smile with sharp teeth,
gaze with arrows
and greet with claws.
theirs shadows cover
His spectral stride was not the worst of him.
His stoic face was a flawless slab of stone.
His rending claws slipped idly within his pockets.
As if extensions of his sheathed talons, on either side of the ghoul was a hound of hell.
The beasts could not look more different, save for their crimson eyes which sang of the gallows.
The worst had indeed arrived.
Each patient step glided after the other.
With no word, with no tempo, with no sign.
The dance of grimaced howls and fangs began.
Catch me with the light
Cause I only play in the darkness
Creeping around with my
The claws of wretched women leave scars on my skin.
Reminders of where I came from and who I’ve been.
Some marks last a life time of wanting to disappear,
but others are proud of their sins.
A monster has crept up on me,
Claws are at my neck.
Part of me wants to fight,
Part of me wants to succumb.
These claws rip and tear at me with a question--
"What more could you have done?"
A poem about teacher guilt.