The wild wold dance
By alphadog1
- 285 reads
Between these soft stroked sheets
That hardly let out a soft bleat
And the of the hard shafted trees
That nearly hold back eastern breeze;
The kiss of a new winter reveals In wild throws of milked thrills,
That now tells of nothing else but this
(a deliberately hidden line)
And from here: like a madman upon the shore
I fight for less but I always want more
And as my old soul cries
and climbs upon this near light.
And from within and without this thin dark,
And without this thick light
The sod soft fingers creep: and escalate then penetrate
Within and without and all about
Leaving clefts that are bereft of heart’s welcoming.
But like a wild owl whom beats his eternal wings,
And whom soars above like a sacred offering
That then leaves their claws a dark mark on bare bark
And then along this long dry sexy skirt of dirt
And in whose soft lioness longing eternal eyes
Spies are seen through such soft cooing sighs
that in turn
Wise words that then deliciously leave a hushed thrill.
My soft hands play They mould this warming clay
As my heart reaches for the day
Made of warm soft grass that smells rich and sweet
To then lift and raise a glass of satisfactio
n That is then tasted and released delicately
From within and without my damp parted lips
In soft throws and in a curled release Of satisfaction.
© adh 2015
- Log in to post comments