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The Web Poetry Corner

Don Moorhead


Bozeman, MT, US

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Don Moorhead

Soft the boy and hard the ground
Quick the bullets flying round
Thick the air and hard the thud
Slow the dripping, red the blood
Wet the tear upon the face
Now the time
Hell the place
Numb the feeling, still the sound
Of the young boy falling down
Falling gently
Gently down
Little soldier On the ground

Young Love


Don Moorhead

Swiftly the gallant steed carried her
carried her to their secret place
the secret place where love had blossomed
blossomed at a young hearts pace.

Surely now she urged her stallion
on along the winding way
in her young heart raged a fire
still unkindled till today.

He was standing in the forest
by the lake so deep and blue
praying that his thoughts would guide her
to the boy who's love was true.

On she galloped holding tightly
to the mount that bore her there
she could feel his thoughts upon her
passion wafting on the air.

As she rode into the clearing
up he leaped to help her down
Warm his hands upon her body
As he helped her to the ground.

Now she waited for the moment
breathless from her thrilling ride
for the kiss from her true lover
for the love he couldn't hide.

Her breath quickened as he pulled her
tightly to his heaving chest
her eyes met his, her heart pounded
deep inside her young girl's breast.

His mouth pressed upon on her full lips
moist and full of her desire
her lips parted and caressed his
hot with her unbridled fire.

Soft and slow he pulled her down
down to the ground they slid
but since this is a family place
its up to you just what they did.