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* a t t e n d a *
swerve
slew
the skelter shiver
let the cats eyes
glean
like whiskers of whiskey
and her claws
like minion guards
tend beadlette offerings
baby grand
can you purr my song
like this wind that
sails my calm
a slate great
pyre shall be
once desired
and a dram
from the
well from
that farm..
Editing stage:
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Comments
eightmenout
Tue, 2013-11-12 13:17
Steve
Typically, I only conjure imagery from your work. This one reached the nervous system. Not something many words have been able to do. Thanks for being so damn good.
By the way, I saw where Jess asked if you did any public readings. I, for one, would make my way to Canada for that. But might I say it would be much more convenient than resurrecting Dean Moriarty if you would just record it and provide a link with your post.
Scott
Scott
lonlyhrtsclub13
Wed, 2013-11-13 09:53
The cat
magical beast
worshipped as part of Bast's army
mysterious, elusive, clever
the comfort of their purr
much like that of the piano
soothing, sensitive, unconditional loving
independent and strong
yet needy when the time comes
I have always found them to be a comfort
All though most I know think they are rather callous
My two little guys have brought such joy
in the two months I have had them
Lots of laughs
Great poem, Steven
Hope you are well...
Keep Writing,
Carrie
"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"