bristle-cheeked sunset
rubbed me raw
“Don’t, “I said,
brushing away spider’s stories
aching silver tears
of evening’s rain
“Can’t,” I mouthed
between hot spears
of another steep climb
“Won’t, won’t, won’t…,”
drummed my feet
and the moon spilled through
sketching a path
between brambles
and shambles
of my hot-ash need
to know heat in burned-down hovel
that smolders on horizon
bent down to warm itself
Author notes
prompt - burn beneath the moon
RW Graphics 2008 provided by contest holder
In a list
A contest entry
- burn beneath the moon by Pamela A Lamppa.
1000 points, ended November 26, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Ooohhh...
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Some superb imagery used with wonderful language in this piece. Oh I did delight in the heat in burned down hovel.
My ultimate favorite lines were
:“Won’t, won’t, won’t…,”
drummed my feet
and the moon spilled through"
Ahhh - you swept me up with those. A most excellent take on this prompt. Thank you. ~Pamela
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