Feral Hunk

by

Stephan Hovell

He`s so sharp,he leaves no mark,
self ignites,without a spark,
got a stride,that won`t be late,
hottest boots,to match the gait,
look at the hat,check the tilt,
rough and ready,how he`s built,
distant look,across his eyes,
type of frown,that most despise,
I know no one,that knows his name,
what he wants,or why he came,
hush the room,when he walks in,
friends make up,the cicle of sin,
he`s hard drink`n,needs a shave,
any bitch gladly,to be his slave,
catch your eye,his very stance,
women would cheat,for half a chance,
it`s just the aura,he emanates,
closes doors,and locks up gates,
watch your daughters,down the street,
he owns the gaze,they can`t defeat,
lucky at cards,snake eyes dice,
play at your peril,reckon the price,
he`s as though blessed,by the gods,
like Jasons Argonauts,bet the odds,
skids around deadly,speed the roads,
he flouts the laws,laughs and goads,
black chopper`s his,parked outside,
no one touch it,like his pride,
a handsome brow,lines tell tales,
a sketchy history,without details,
I can not say,that I know him well,
or if in fact,he comes from hell.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at bud
by: Estel Sowell
from: Palestine, TX, US

To visit all of Stephan Hovell's poems, click HERE

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