aDarkerMind

When Goes Time



when goes time does the dog die?

does the inked womb begrudge and reminisce?

stand time with grief on the pegged back ilk,

or craze a craft a vessel on the curious vein?

when boiled do scallops pant or pray?

bring labours pain to the pregnant man?

skip two words a pleasure for the ear,

or deaf all arms of vegetable and wing?

 

four fruits of labour grouts their prison walls

on vines of chaplin lace where weaves a sin

a smothered face for the art of stutter still

when goes time does time himself sand stone?

or breathe a crocked breath to parallell his page?

cats paw or a rats tail with a village acorn twist

born with a python in each fist

on the day the typhoon came inside to play;

 

was ever time as humble as the mighty bumble bee?

through wizard skies does the brass band march with June?

when goes time does the dog die with the stray?

when once came time bearing gifts for the stairwell

for the trumpet of the pierced shell for the passed tense of gone

now gone protected species of the aliens supreme

now gone the webbed-feet spiders from our village jamboree

the truth is out there somewhere! so the hooded man believes;

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments3

  • Teddy.15

    This just scream believe nothing but believe everything, this is amazing as usual you do it in such style that it try jumps into the soul of the reader

    a smothered face for the art of stutter still

    when goes time does time himself sand stone?

    or breathe a crocked breath to parallell his page?

    cats paw or a rats tail with a village acorn twist

    born with a python in each fist

    on the day the typhoon came inside to play

    Such wonderful play on words.

  • L. B. Mek

    if Merlin was into poetry
    I would bet his writes
    would have read a lot like yours, dear Poet
    a magical journey of wild, unapologetic imagery
    and layered, insightful commentary
    'what a Talent!'
    thank you for choosing to share

    • aDarkerMind

      as kind and generous as always L B Mek;
      thank you.

    • Robert Haigh

      A poem full of mystique and delightful imagery. A succulent bone to be chewed and savoured!

      • aDarkerMind

        thank you Robert;

        very kind words very much appreciated.



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