deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Middle-lands

Sometimes I drink myself,
deep wells of water drowning my insides and pouring back out as rivers
that seek you out and egg you on,    
inciting you
to chase,  
bounding as stag in heat  
across the guts of wide, open hillside.  
I hear your throat reverberating my name -  
top of challenging Tor,  
caught and carried upon vast, cutting winds,    
salted and frosted in unpredictable air.    

I don't call back,  
I don't dare.  

My heart wiser, taught by time, steadied on song,  
mind though, still too small and young,  
castle not built well enough for any
who might come with an axe and an intention -
and I dream  
careless,
hungerless dreams.  
 
A wolf gone vegan  
laying quietly in the nevermore  
waiting for her time  
to come again  
and then
  
the hunting will begin.
ImperfectedStone
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 4 reading list entries 2
comments 6 reads 146
Ahavati AverageJoe
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:44am by Bluevelvete
COMPETITIONS
Today 2:15am by DanielChristensen
SPEAKEASY
Today 2:00am by Bluevelvete
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:43am by Phantom2426
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:37am by Wh1skeySwagger
COMPETITIONS
23rd October 2020 10:13pm by Bluevelvete