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Arise the Picaresque

Arise the Picaresque..

I see the words fall from your lips,
and I spirit them away.
You said they were not of worth,
could sometimes go astray.

At night I brush your gold grey mane,
and steal a little more.
You laugh as I hurried to hide,
contempt knocking me to the floor.

Could I scribe a poem,
with words made from your hair.
Maybe write the love song,
with your smile always there.

Correct me if I’m wrong,
but stall me not.
I’m trying now to be strong,
asking what we forgot.

When you need to close the book,
as your eyes begin to tire.
I could live within that look,
cradled in your sleepy desire.

For us only too adore,
the winds of loch and glen.
Would we be wasting it’s beauty,
if never known to other men.

But if I could capture a glen’s glory,
and hold it, for you alone.
That it could make you understand,
without your love I am as stone.

Some day while acting at risqué,
then cleverly disguising my form.
Pertaining moves of arabesque,
rising picaresque from the norm.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
Editing stage: 

Comments

Its great to receive comments from a poet, held in such high regard as you Jane. Keep well many thanks, love Roscoe....

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

author comment

Hope your well, thank you and i suppose there'll always be a touch of Scotland, in whatever we write. And yes its about wanting and needing love and attention, a bit like ourselves on Neopoet, Who enjoy helping and commenting on each others work. Anyway, i hope Glasgow treating you well. Love Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

author comment

A wonderful poem Roscoe, and welcome back!

I love when poets write of similar images on the same day, it proves that there is only one muse... the music of the spheres

One of the poems I wrote in my 3rd incarnation as a poet.

Desire (2005)

I am weary
earth-heavy and bone-chilled
my freedom escapes
like an Arabian stallion,
sure-footed, nostrils flaring,
running for the sheer joy of it
horse perspiration and savanna earth,
a merging of sorts,

I long to be that ground
underfoot,
felling
me to my knees

for I desire again

~A

Thank you for your welcome, and your comments, as i have said before your words and veiws are so very much valued. Love Roscoe....

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

author comment
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