O, bilious quahog!
O, my willowy owl.
You curl, an elusive
ghost, twice around
the miraculous cowbird
of my mercurial heart.
In seaweed, in salt, we squander,
we abscond with an afternoon.
We eat it whole, like a truffle.
It melts slowly, like a nonpareil.
I lied: My heart is no cowbird, not
miraculous. It is a dunderhead,
a generator of ego, a cyclops.
But it only has eye for you.
NaPoWriMo, Day 20 prompt: Write a poem using at least five from a list of certain words. I’m going to make you click to find out which ones, but I will tell you that I used 21 of them,
I love this…wow you took the whole list of words and transformed them into a coherent, beautiful poem. I will definitely be coming back and reading more of your work when I have the time.
Thank you! I look forward to seeing you around.🙂
Fantastic poem.
Thanks very much!
: -D “But it only has eye for you.” Marvelous.
Thanks! I was wondering if anyone would notice that line.🙂