Details |
Free verse
|
He hung his scythe above me.
No one is gonna die tonight.
I sit on a rooftop,
in a circle of feathers.
Are they yours, John?
We haven't spoken in a while
but I guess you've been
watching me after all.
From another roof.
Of another dust.
Remember the nights
I'd wrap myself into them
in search of tiniest hint of warmth?
Tonight I pin them into my hair.
Naked, in this beautiful,
whisky-smelling warbonnet
I'll horseback ride across the sky.
Skeleton stallion and I,
galloping to the stars.
You know, He lit my blood.
And no one is gonna die tonight.
|
Details |
Rhyme
|
Flagrant bird Bernadette feathery flair flamboyant
Towers over average plumage
Parades tassle twist pantomime pow wow warbonnet
Cascade costume illuminating
Cheyenne crowned showgirl, a flurry of torso tumult
Statuesque neck festers fatalism
Stiletto weapon punctuates staid with societal revolt
Rouses a Lady Marmalade rythm
Elusive vermilion mouth majestic Bernadette buxom
Slinks sequined by beside suited
Patrons in shadow of taboo troublesome seduction
Stubble rub struggle translucent
Sashaying aves, aloof eaglet suspended in feminine
Bouyant slow swirl drape tailed koi
Hypnotic bronzed bends transmit treacle pheromone
Concocts a carbonated cider void
26th June Too sexy!
|