Continuing on, this is the penultimate part of my latest poem. I hope to have it completed within the next few days.
Argus & Io
By Francis Scudellari
III.
He
a-fog
spies early
morning ride in
rosy on curled backs
of a low-rising mist
pushed by one errand-
spelling breeze's
deceitful
lyrics
blow-
whispered
to drowse with
threaded tunes spun
by humming needle-
sharp leaves, olive clatter
drummed as owning twigs
knock, lulling shut
his hundred
eyes, close-
kept
charge loosed
in whiting
flash, thunder's clap
and Argus quick-caught
by writ-mischief's lean hands
foiling-wrapped within
tight, re-coiled tales
his never
slipping
free
3 comments:
hi
blog walking
nice to be here
How I wish I could write a poem as seamless as this one or as bubbly and pure. Brilliant poem.
@Shimi Glad you could stop by.
@Jena Thanks, that's very high praise.
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