IDES OF MAY



Not for the sight I cherish
Not for the grace I adore
Not for the catwalk I dreamt of
Out of chicken feed grime
The silence persevere
In dark of light
That chose the withering conduit.

The iced brick of slump
Throttled the field of gold
To spring off a dream
That drained in the sun.

Upon the best of cognac
Upon the throng of colleen's
The passionate evil persisted
Were we met and breakaway




Poetry by Owen
Read 550 times
Written on 2006-12-01 at 19:16

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Phyllis J. Rhodes
Again I am facinated by your wording. Tell me more about this one. What does "the iced brick of slump Throttled the filed of gold" refer to?
2006-12-13


Zoya Zaidi
Ilike the rhythm of it immensely, Owen!
Love, Zoya
2006-12-01