"laching" poems
Deep in the woods of Laching bay
Behind green drapes of whispering trees
Lives a fantastic creature,
A delightful friend and teacher.
He has nestled there for centuries
Watching the world pass through reptile eyes
He is as calm as a setting sun,
As reliable as a rising one.
With scales that gleam and glisten,
A rippling rainbow when light finds him.
When Jumaja speaks, everyone listens
Down a long spine a row of spikes stretches
Brimstone and emerald crowns,
Legacies of his enchanted kingdom.
He may tell you in a soft voice, as deep as the ocean,
How it is to be the last of a kind.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 7:53 PM UTC
I'm coughed to death
And sniffles to match
Numbered as grains of sand on the beach
Are my ailments that are laching me up
I'm sick
Really friggin sick.
In both my body
And my head
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC