Shifting Gears
Daffodils were bobbing,
I never thought to ask why?
January was the coldest -
dreams don't care
and the yellow trumpets
were almost speaking
and I almost listening.
However, sex got through
this bucolic view,
the daffs turned
into a belly dancer
I once admired in Luxor.
Now I am being scolded
by a demi-god with goat horns
on his curly head. It's not happy
with my expansive outlook.
I need a fifth gear in a dream car,
a vehicle roomy enough
for both a bed of daffodils
and a rather plumb Egyptian lady.
The goat guy can take a hike.
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.
