"bedful" poems
Death is dreadful
hides in shadows
seethes and battles
grim the night
Beth is bedful
rides in saddles
breathes and prattles
trim and tight
©2013 Lyn
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 10:48 AM UTC
that’s a wild animal.
He doesn’t care that you think it’s cute.
Don’t touch him.
He is on fire in hot
pursuit
of suitor, taming
of the tamer
of cold sharp breaths
of air
of the polluter’s diluted self, aware
And, so, where are you when I am scared
or (alone)
((skeletal))
(((in need of repair)))?
lacking in tenderness while half-listening—doe-eyed—wanderous—confidently—
“Despair is a feral thing”
You set it
to the choral whispers of rotting,
on a golden-forest bedful of debris.
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 1:45 AM UTC