If you weren't vegetarian before...
Is trickling and gathering
And dripping
And smathering
Around my neck.
This is new,
This is not like the field
That I first knew
When my piglet eyes
Opened after the straw
And the suckle and the little others
And the knowing grunts so sure.
The Heartbeat from sowmum
As we fed
Loved us and smiled us
And was nothing like this red.
The tall-ones brought their young
To play and we grew:
We grew to trust them and love them
Just like the apples that they threw
To us as playful treats.
The lifting us to their faces
Let us see into their caring:
We were safe in their embraces.
This morning,
The tall tall-one led us to a wheeled-one
And rumbled us away
To a caged and freezing steeled-one.
I heard squeals that weren't playing -
Bangs and thuds and smells followed
That left me shaking
And hollowed.
A few seconds ago,
A stranger tall-one
Put me into a pen and then the sound:
"Electricity to stall one".
Blackout and then the nearly awake
Drowse to the invasion of the dulled pain.
All that I can see is red
Gushing down the drain.
13:07, Mon. 04.10.2010.
Poetry by Mark J. Wood
Read 1096 times
Written on 2013-10-10 at 16:17
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No More Orchards.
The wet warmthIs trickling and gathering
And dripping
And smathering
Around my neck.
This is new,
This is not like the field
That I first knew
When my piglet eyes
Opened after the straw
And the suckle and the little others
And the knowing grunts so sure.
The Heartbeat from sowmum
As we fed
Loved us and smiled us
And was nothing like this red.
The tall-ones brought their young
To play and we grew:
We grew to trust them and love them
Just like the apples that they threw
To us as playful treats.
The lifting us to their faces
Let us see into their caring:
We were safe in their embraces.
This morning,
The tall tall-one led us to a wheeled-one
And rumbled us away
To a caged and freezing steeled-one.
I heard squeals that weren't playing -
Bangs and thuds and smells followed
That left me shaking
And hollowed.
A few seconds ago,
A stranger tall-one
Put me into a pen and then the sound:
"Electricity to stall one".
Blackout and then the nearly awake
Drowse to the invasion of the dulled pain.
All that I can see is red
Gushing down the drain.
13:07, Mon. 04.10.2010.
Poetry by Mark J. Wood
Read 1096 times
Written on 2013-10-10 at 16:17
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
