11-18-2013, 06:51 PM
Along the cat-howled, dog-fouled street, hugging rails, they crawl and creep;
grain gratified.
Hop-happiness has held the hours, singing songs until the sleep,
denied by pride,
overcomes the rounding call and one by one they slur goodnight.
Counted out, in to the night the shirt-sweat, flat-caps tumble; tired
by ale and cheers.
Up the blustered bank they trail a windy wake and laugh, inspired
by pressured peers.
Over-swung and badly hung the garden gates slam-clang them home.
Windows dark and curtains shut, yet wailing wife and stubbed-toe curse
defiles the dark.
Passions pound to shake the beds, 'til icon Saints fall down; and worse,
the mad dogs bark.
Saturday is Sunday now. The rest will come through snore-roar peace.
tectak
"Curtains for Mrs. Westbrook" 2011 revisited in verse.
grain gratified.
Hop-happiness has held the hours, singing songs until the sleep,
denied by pride,
overcomes the rounding call and one by one they slur goodnight.
Counted out, in to the night the shirt-sweat, flat-caps tumble; tired
by ale and cheers.
Up the blustered bank they trail a windy wake and laugh, inspired
by pressured peers.
Over-swung and badly hung the garden gates slam-clang them home.
Windows dark and curtains shut, yet wailing wife and stubbed-toe curse
defiles the dark.
Passions pound to shake the beds, 'til icon Saints fall down; and worse,
the mad dogs bark.
Saturday is Sunday now. The rest will come through snore-roar peace.
tectak
"Curtains for Mrs. Westbrook" 2011 revisited in verse.