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Click herePredator, you scent prey,
doe-eyed quarry strolling meditatively,
musing upon the cud of her thoughts
Prowling behind, your covetous eyes follow
the languid shift of muscles under skin
the color of milky quartz, lucent
within the praying hunter's reach
Your fingers curl, longing to reap a harvest
of agonized cries and pleasured moans
To draw nourishment from the flesh
of the doe-eyed one whose heart
resembles uncut stone,
If you can
Sculptor, you surely pray,
you could make of your cock a chisel
the hammer of your body pounds against
Splitting stone from the doe-eyed quarry
walls pitted with scars from picks and rails
Acts of violence necessary to elevate
the heart of stone, inviolate
to the rim, within the preying artist's reach
Your fingers curl 'round rasp and burr
eager to harvest dust and chips
To carve your dream from the living flesh
of the uncut stone,
If you can
Lover, preying, praying
your fingers explore the quarry's mossy ledge
seeking the shaded twilight depths
of the woman-shaped canyon
flooded with nectar for which you thirst
Soul saturated with esurience,
tongue craving the taste of sunbeams enfleshed
Will you assault it with your tools, attempt
to conquer and shape the stone like so much clay
Or will you drive, sleek and fine,
into the quarry pond, hoping to surface,
spent, upon the shore of your desire,
If you can
How can poetry evoke such visual images as you do? Thanks for your wild brain, the bouncing of the ball from wall to stream to tree to floor. It's always fun seeing the colors in the black and white text.
as if as if as if I never play
as you do and do
you go after your quarry
and in the first line I can follow
tracking and scanning you down to the pit
where we end in the splash and spray
I am gladder for surprises
explanations make and end of things
apologies not for style;
as you go you see how it goes
we take the ride you write us on.
"splitting stone from the doe-eyed quarry"
a suggestion drop the explanation from the bottom, let the reader discover, the aha effect
if you had another line with the other "quarry" at the end, would be even better still
Oh, BTW, I also write as "anonamouse" sometimes, note spelling
some times wrestling with words can be gradifying. I enjoyed your poem and its meaning.
I recognize the feeling ~
At times the words rush out
Faster than you can write;
Other times you have to fight to get them out
Kicking and screaming.
I had to read through this twice
To better appreciate the work you did
Tying together quarry's meanings;
You make the reader pay attention ~ good for you!