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Dried pods rattled in the breeze,
such a hollow sound,
echoing deep emotions
and driving a sigh from my lips
as I stretch in the dim glow
of early morning.
I pull on my old white shirt,
a dingy color
much like the lightening sky.
Stained and torn jeans follow,
the jagged edge of a rip
rubbing against my callused fingers
reminding me of work ahead.
I frown at the sight of my boots,
crusted with mud,
a chore that lies ahead
and a longing for a day without shoes.
I feel the flakes of dirt
when they stick to my feet
as I take to the kitchen
grabbing coffee and biscuits.
Breakfast in the field,
lungs soaking in the cool air,
watching the moon as it tried to hold on.
A losing fight
much like my own.
The moon peeked between skeletons
of plants past.
The song of death sang once again
as the breeze cut it’s path.
I swallowed coffee
letting the bitter taste
and hot water
replace bitter
and burning memories.
The sun was soon to rise though
and I had life to live.
Like a switch,
my hat slipping on my head
tucked away any distraction,
and I was whole again.
I gave a last glance to the moon,
tipped my hat
to the light that fought the dark.
previously published in the HoCo Poetry Project. link here:
Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2015
Her soft spots were really soft
Yet that discovery made me hard
I faintly touched them ,she hopped
And seemingly in pleasure she sighed
She gazed skyward to the stars in prayer
As I kissed her neck in a fashion so rare
Initially there was no having a taste,she'd refused
But not after my magical touch had her diffused
Under the warm moon as I kissed out her yearning
She died of the passion she was learning
Sapped her control and she was losing it
Her hazel eyes glowed like embers freshly lit
Under the gorgeous little Jack fruit tree
While she begged me in whispers to set her free
Free like when her lustrous monster wasn't active
Then I realized I was a chain holding her captive
Every stroke made her **** for it felt like lightning or fire
She wasn't given lectures on how to surf the waves of desire
Despair in her eyes said she needed to be freed from the prison
Thus I slowly untied the chains of my lust but it felt like treason
To me,but I couldn't go on devouring without her ease on
She didn't deserve being butchered and eaten in a tree zone
So I just rubbed her slowly as she regained her equilibrium
Kept my whip tightly locked like it were dangerous uranium
She apologized for spoiling the all spicy night
I could tell that all had changed to regret from fright
When a gentleman let it easily walk away
But I was sure her dear goat would of course
Be devoured treasure it though she may
She couldn't keep it forever, but she could delay the loss
Virginity in my Country is nicknamed "Goat"
And sorry if you hate this kind of poetry, I like all poetry :o

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