by Terry Miller |
Categories:
death, father, mother,
I have often witnessed death
though not ever the last breath;
field mice frozen in a jar;
slaughtered lambs in abattoir,
dissected frogs in school labs,
cruel boiling of live crabs
for important luncheon meets.
Piglets torn from mother’s teats
roasted at a football game.
Hungry lions eat the lame
garden’s serpent kills the truth
mothers’s love that kills your youth;
little bug just stepped upon;
“don’t destroy my sweet salon.”
To embrace a death without;
that is just to be Boy Scout.
To embrace a death within;
to my father, was a sin.
by Clive Culverhouse |
Categories:
earth, metaphor, mother, nature, relationship, truth, world,
you put your silks and satins
in me, a darkened abattoir
I see your pain, a summer crisis
staring sometimes for minutes
it's a love hate relationship
it's a love hate hall of mirrors
lost in dirty bone catacombs
I wait for your return
by Jan Hansen |
Categories:
adventure, anger, betrayal,
The royal sport
A racehorse died
it had given more
then its heart could endure.
Many racehorses die
every year
the difference with this horse
its trainer
sat on the dead horse
and smiled.
But horses like racing,
true but at its own pace
not made to run faster than it can
But the British are animal lovers
unquestionable,
but they love betting more.
Racing horses
is a commodity
if they can´t take the pace and win
the abattoir
is the final stop