She is too much woman for me, she needs many men
Bursting with energy, she never slept didn't know when to say when
Too smart to fool, her ambitions cast shadows on the sun
The world her tool, winged mercury she could out run
Rooted in the soil, she touches the stars
With hurricane turmoil, her mind on mars
Dreams spilling out of her head, she could tame any beast
Would give any beggar her bread, made herself the least
Won't back down or make appeal, money she would find
She knows how to make any man stare, is angelically kind
When hot she can temper steel, a volcanic explosion released
She can make food out of thin air, she can make a thistle into a feast
A sack of joy that was always full, to tether her was a crime
Harder to stay with than a bucking bull, my fall just a matter of time
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Online) - Published: May 5th, 2026 03:23
- Comment from author about the poem: In bull riding one must stay on for eight seconds to receive a score.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
Online)
Comments4
Too much woman, too good a poem. Loved it!!
Thank you Salvia for the read and comment it is deeply appreciated and valued
Well now you put it that way, I can both see and feel exactly what you mean .. Neville
I thought this was about when ya met KP! Not that I'm jealous. I just say 'poor you! lol.
Or that it was about when you took a bus ride for one stop, of about eight seconds. lol.
All this is pretty exhausting for an old wingless Mercury native like me...
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