Throated calls of distant trains echo,
Resonating as the soft enticing bellow
Catches in your head and spreads below
To neck and lung and torso.
Spare me; the voice hangs low,
lower than the hooked undertoe
Of the washed up sweep and sow
Reaped and reheaped on the shoulders of a poet as of yet
unknown.
That temping, preemptive glow
That picks away at your soul
Drags a slow scraping breath cold,
And now returns above to lick the heavens,
born from the burn,
and bold.
Beautiful. You are truly gifted. Never stop writing, follow your dreams.
Thank you, anonymous commenter. Anonymity is the best indicator of honesty. You seem like the kind of person I’d like to get to know.
This poem is so satisfying to read aloud. You work very well with words. Thank you (and really, I do thank you) for sharing this! I do hope you keep it up. ^.^