THE WOLF'S WHISPER
I felt I couldn't last long on bristle alone
with this broken heart, these broken bones
so I carried the weight as far as I could
with the howling moon and the firewood
while I kept
constantly checking my scar tissue
my blurry tattoos and my brands
obsessing about my expiry date
where it hid in the lines on my hands
funny in the end
it was my imaginary friend's
straightforward wisdom I followed
to remain unafraid for only today and
fight tomorrow's monsters tomorrow.
HARVEST
There’s just so many nows in forever
if we’re apart or together as one,
we’d better cherish them all if we’re clever
make the most of our time in the sun,
‘coz it’s where we are led whether up or in bed
there’s one funeral we all must attend,
because somewhere ahead the sea kisses the sky
and the name of that place is the end.
Lindsay McLeod currently lives by the sea on the Southern edge of the world, where he trips over the offing every morning. He has been published here and there in the past and won a few awards. He has started messing about with words again lately after a few necessary years away. You might expect him to know better by now, but oh no.
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Brilliant, Lindsay, X 2. ♥️
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Good stuff, matey! 👍
I like them, muchly!😊
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