Arch Ilagan Poet Rhyme

Pot

eight thirty,

i spin and find my center,
you talk about the weather,
he smiles, and i remember.

you stand and make me sweat.
he wants to make a bet
i laugh and then forget.

i then proceed to swim at sea;
he butterflies and follows me
you praise your god unsilently.

he grabs my leg,
or thigh,
or wrist.
you, Devil you, don't make a fist.
two more fellows on my list.


eight thirty-five.

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L'Nass Shango May 9, 2009 at 5:15 PM Intriguing way of bringing my mind to your story ... pure orignality, rare gift.

Arch Ilagan May 8, 2009 at 1:31 AM thank you. i do not expect the public to relate to this piece, since well.. :) i'm not really good at titling. any suggestions?

Fernando Lachica May 5, 2009 at 8:59 AM The title & message are not so convincing to the general public, but, it's a good piece indeed.