Image for the poem The Rut

The Rut

A morning chill, the scent is in the air.
The males all lift their heads w’ nostrils flared.

It is the season poets congregate
In open fields to meet and take a mate.

In joining pen w’ pen to no more roam,
To propagate in pairs and make a poem.

The strongest bucks of verse will be a catch
That poet doe’s of equal skill can fetch.

All through the spring the ink of love fulfills,
To flow through veins of passion, creeks & rills.

The poet bucks who lost are feeling hurt:
“I came to write and got a lousy shirt!”

There’s one who’s limping still w’ bloody face.
He looks around to see who’s left to chase,

And bellows loudly at the female strays,
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways!”

Copyright©️Jade Pandora 2018.  All Rights Reserved.
NaPo/GloPoWriMo 2018
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Author's Note
This is entry 1 of 30 that I'll be doing through the month of April, not including any theme-bonus entries that will be published and entered in a separate competition. Follow along, I'll be posting at least one poem every day for 30 days. Enjoy!
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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