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After his Image

~ Mostly philosophical musings after religion and politics

After his Image

Monthly Archives: January 2013

Road Worthy

31 Thursday Jan 2013

Posted by myrthryn in Poetry

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Tags

forgetting, love, Pain, Poem, Poetry, separation, windshield

My Love begins a pebble
striking the smooth glass
at self-imposed limits
of life.
The combined momentum
brings that first fracture
of clarity with beauty
etching glass.

Ragged tendrils grow
with breaths of summers’ heat,
broken limbs from rage,
and emotions frosting distances,
no two moments of love alike.

A blink in a blinding moment
shatters self, sandblasted clear,
salted road spray
streaking my blood and tears
to fade into wind.

Almost Walden Pond

31 Thursday Jan 2013

Posted by myrthryn in Poetry

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Tags

bluegill, Dreams, fishing, life, Poem, Poetry, stars, Thoreau, Walden Pond

Three in the afternoon
of a warm September day
in the gentle rock boat
on the lake of dreams,
she fishes…

all day, it seems.

A timeless seven hours past,
there were solid bites
threatening to pull her under
into the dream of lost-selves.

Nibbles, nibbles,
only nibbles.
“Life is such a tease,” she thinks,
flicking her cigarette
into the water.

A school of bluegill
swarm around her butt,
fighting, chasing it
to the deep.
“Figures…”

Nothing all day,
even through solar goodbyes.
She retires the pole,
lays down to gaze above.
In the gentle rock boat,
the dreams below
whisper her softly
to the starry dreams above.

Swamp Rats and Men

29 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by myrthryn in Poetry, Rubaiyat, Rubies of Dread

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Tags

crocodiles, Crown Royal, Poem, Poetry, rubaiyat, swamp, swamp rat

The swamp so thick it swallows night.
Bravado’d men, their guns in sight
to float the gators’ backsides down
while plodding on with progress slight.

They ope and drink the bottled Crown
‘midst failing beams, sun-slipping down.
The swamp goes dead, then mighty splash!
One glimpses tail and shares the frown.

Those drunken fools in hurried dash
bring guns to bear; but oh, alas,
their aim is poor and not their fright
as Croc turns tears and brains to mash.

Croc drags the boat through silent night
and parks what’s left by barrel-light.
Within the shack, cries of delight,
“Hey Pa! He wants ’em fried tonight!”

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