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Gary Kedron 46, United States (1/4/2013 1:20:00 PM)

Would like some feed back on this poem..... I like it think it flows well and can follow it while reading.....thanks.....

Thy Hunts Mans Hound


By thy side,
follow
obey.

Oak
Elm
Beach.

Into thy Majesty's wood,
hunt,
for thy elusive
Stag.

Not
of golden fleece,
folklore,
nor
legend
do thy seek.

Thy secret,
all
on
to
thee.

Thy sent
aloft
breezes carry.

Unbeknown
to
He.

Intoxicating,
Thy musk
Thy smell
Thy sweat.

Taste
on thy
lips.

Thy tongue,
teeth
lodging
into thou hide.

From thy mill pond,
pluck thy goose,
that thy flesh
covers thee.

Go now,
find,
cries out
within.

Bound off
over moss laden
rocks.

Leaves,
upon thy earth
of seasons past
crush beneath
pads
of thy feet.


Over fallen titans
of
thy wood,
I
leap
in
haste.

There
before
thee,
thy
Stag.

Shake thy head,
thy antlers
thy rack,
velvet
pulled
back.

Which once
adorned
thee
in
thy
youth,
no longer
a
button
buck.

Chase,
run,
flee,
thy cloven hoof.

Take thee along
into
thy
realm.

Side by side,
breast against belly,
in rhythm
same pace
with stride.

Over hedge rows,
through thickets,
brambles thorn.

Lashing
across
flesh,
gashes torn,
I
bleed
for
thee.

Stand there
confront
surrender
exhausted,
froth on thy muzzle,
thy rapid breath.

Smell of thy effort,
no
escape.

Stay
thy
chase.

So I may,
hunt thy Stag
yet again,
catch thy sent,
intoxicating insanity,
what
of
that
which
I
do
seek.

I am thy Hunts mans Hound, thee be thy Stag.


Gary Kedron

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