He was tangled in weed, tangled in weed

Distanced by her lip-gloss smile

Stranded, marooned, curtailed, ejected

He wandered the earth looking for solace

For a rolled pillow on which he may lay his head

Not a soft, rich bosom, nor a lapful of gold

A regular soldier’s palette bed made of straw

A welcome word, a familiar smile, a kind gesture

Not even a knot of grass woven by careworn hands


When sense and reason mend he saw through the amber

He saw the drunken Lord which had made him smile

Pavement stones wet, not wet with sweat, or blood or tears

What waste of time? what futility? what hands he’d held? 

What moments lost? what frailty? what arms so cold?

He brushed a woman’s arm, although she had not minded

Not blinded, had been kind in blue, not cold of feeling

Feelings true, feelings that once grew and slew dragons

Marie you hurt no one but yourself & ole dismembered me






About edenbray

I am a writer ... a beat poet who began writing poetry way back in 1966 ... 'edenbray is born ugly, wet, covered in blood, mucous & bodily functions, the effluence of my short life' ... I recently published my 1st solo Anthology - the best of 60 years writing - previously I ran my own Art Supplies Store for 40 yrs before I became a full-time writer I am a Blogger who has posted 1,000 poems - available in 24 themed booklets ... please ask for details + leave a 'like' or a comment for my encouragement, thank you so much for listening - I truly value your opinion on my work ~ in fact I literally survive on your creative input ~ edenbray
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