I nurture the creator in you;
the little god that throbs to be master of
words and colors, lines and notes.
I watch you give birth to it.
I see how it squeezes out of
your brain and crawls across
the floor- all bloody and wet.
It's alive and glorious and grotesque.
You're immortal- a giver of life.
I hold it to my face and breathe in
the smell of rain, pine trees, and desire.
I kiss its fur and taste the
fires of hell, cardamom, and oysters, raw and sweet.
I feed it a bowl of saffron threads, soaked in milk,
stare into its wild black eyes; I can hear
it hum a tune in B flat minor, and I wonder,
whose seed is this?
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 19th, 2024 00:03
- Comment from author about the poem: Check out my you tube channel where I read this poem and others from my recent book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems available on Amazon.com
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, Bella Shepard
Offline)
Comments5
I'm loving your latest works!
🪶Inspiring and full of life
Thank you so much.
Superb poetry, love the last lines. Your imagery is fabulous. 🌹
Thank you so much, Teddy.
Good write T.
Another fascinating poem, Thomas.
The seed, the miracle of life you have captured in this wonderful poem is truly inspiring. We should be awestruck every time we see one.
Thank you so much.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.