Notes About The Poem
Double the Swap, Joseph May, 6/21/2026
In Dusk’s Ripe Wheat
Rose behind back, plenty to choose.
Her pensive eyes, her pretty blues.
The stems have thorns, her bow is black.
Plenty to choose, rose behind back.
In dusk’s ripe wheat, this gypsy mourns.
Her bow is black, the stems have thorns.
The shoulders’ bare, her curves are sweet.
This gypsy mourns, in dusk’s ripe wheat.
Though sun is hot, her flesh is fair.
Her curves are sweet, the shoulders’ bare.
Man reaches out, found a nice spot.
Her flesh is fair, though sun is hot.
There’s crushing buds, where seeds sprout.
Found a nice spot, man reaches out.
Garden sobbing with prickly suds.
Where seeds do sprout, there’s crushing buds.
Petals wilting, center’s throbbing.
With prickly suds, garden sobbing.
Dirty affair, the soil’s tilting.
Center’s throbbing, petals wilting.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.