Call of Poetry

by

Hay Machine

I aweways hated poetry
Made learn it by the yard
Be'ist thou some dreary thing
By love-lost ancient tortured bard

I never read with blood-rush stream
The meaning of these lines
Tender yonder Grecian being
Dark introspective troubled rhymes

You turned to chapter thirty four
Your tweed skirt speckled and curvaceous
Rush of feeling heartswelled fling
Dark-haired hardwood and salacious

Later Jack O'Connell climbed
The ivy on an old high churchyard wall
His dry foaming mouth and kinder eye
Expressive, pleading one to heed the poet's call

A young boy stolen from his place in time
Can be forever choked for all his age
And I can feel my own pain now
Our Jack is on the childhood edge of change

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Mental Pork
by: Jill Rebecca Scott
from: Buffalo, MN, US

To visit all of Hay Machine's poems, click HERE

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