Morning

1 Comments

Morning

Scaly like 3
Octaves of repetitious
Reptilian skin
Molting
At its own pace
Submersion is a sharp
With sly surrenders
To symphonies and of course
A tympani
Swiftly knocking
Beats
Go on
But underneath
Or so I thought…
Penalties, perjuries
Penance
Whichever comes first
Reprise.
Please refrain
Refined
Natural intake
Of land untouched
As a new
Daydream
Like some sort
Of Pentecost.
Burning. Holes
In peoples’
Pockets.

Poem Comments

(1)

Please login or register

You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

Login or Register

WordSlinger commented on Morning

03-31-2009

Nice, tympani I used that word before, I hear ya,,,

Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

HariettSpinely’s Poems (4)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Dogs 1
Window pane 1
Morning 1
Itsy Bitsy Spider 1