"jlm" poems
Hanging on the wall, next to my bed post,
A friend of the forest looks surprised, most.
Oh dear, she did not hear the gunshot near,
Nor tree nor hill nor her fawn shed a tear.
Over there, the finest hair of the hare,
Cute and fluffy hopping into my stew.
It's seat is sweet and hard to beat I swear,
Though his hide is gamey and tough to chew.
A sow, a cow is how I eat for now,
I feast on the beasts with the finest meats.
Fresh flesh on my breath, fresh blood on my brow,
Slaughtered, like their daughters; fair market treats.
I feel nothing for these creatures I hunt.
Would you rather feast on the yeast they shunt?
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 12:48 AM UTC
Oh, for what was I a boy, so long ago,
Dancing freely amongst the tall tree tops.
Greedily breathing the morning dew's glow,
Mind settling down, vast daydreaming flops.
Gazing eyes upon sweets and fruits of bliss,
Sorrow has it's days and merriment be.
As bitterness eye followed for a kiss,
Delivered confusion under my tree.
Curious rovers bellow sounds of bleak,
Hell fellows chamfer happiness askew.
Mind's eye worrying a shadowless shriek,
Running humming my innocence aflew.
Events that played out like song of sorrow,
Gift to thine eye and forgotten tomorrow.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 6:32 PM UTC