Steeped In Mud, Though I Was Poem by james watkin
Steeped In Mud, Though I Was
Steeped in mud, though I was
Splattered with it my play
Dirty things in the mind
Were what? I could'nt say.
If they had their bog's charms
Like those did random gain
In the slime-spawned of a
Heated ferment underlain
For sensuousness, wriggles
Perverse does hypnotize
With snaky deadliness...
Child would've grinned blank-wise.
Wednesday, October 16, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: childhood
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12/17/2025 9:23:19 PM # 1.0.0
