in its shadowfold skin
creased by telltales
of too-ancient rains
inhospitable desert
conceals vinegarroons
at their pincering forage
wanting for moisture
if only from inside
some exoskel thorax
life lower and slower
to serve and sustain
at the pleasure of
higher forms such is the
custom of eons become
law of nature adaptive
Darwinian only one
creature equipped to
effect truly momentous
change with one stroke
of a choice alter habits
and predispositions of
feral existence how oddly
remarkable is it
to find he is me
‘Clever’ seems insufficient yet for the life of me I cannot think of a better word…maybe a trio, ‘very clever indeed’!
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three cheers, then – I trust the relocation went reasonably well
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As well as could be expected – the discovery of my shoe box wouldn’t go amiss though…feel like a tramp walking around in the one pair this past week or so!
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hope they’re at least comfortable
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hahaha … Brilliant! So you are the Darwinian! 🙂
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it seems so
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Reblogged this on themonkseal.
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thank you for sharing my poem with your readers
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Oh my–always incredible-good poem, and I learned a new word: vinegarroon.
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happy to oblige
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Amazing, truly.
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much appreciated, alba
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I absolutely love the beautiful narratives within your poetry. It makes want to keep reading more and more of your work. It’s such a treat and a pleasure to read your poems, as poetry is my passion. I love reading it just as much as I do writing it.
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me, too – your thoughtful comments are sincerely appreciated
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I am always struck by artworks as this and your words so suitably match Paul.
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I appreciate that, Don
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Reblogged this on Poesy plus Polemics.
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“how oddly / remarkable is it / to find he is me” . . . Is it possible we both could lay down our weapons and have a conversation about life – its possibilities and its potentialities – and agree to provisional peace based on mutual trust and understanding? Or is it too late for that . . .
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you describe the essence of civilization – possible for many, if not most – but not for everyone and not for all time
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