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A Man Would Venture Down
by Philip F De Pinto
A fawn looking glum
Tossing gleeful chum
Waves stalk the brine
Gnawing at the shoreline
Jawing the red rocks like bazooka gum
Blowing bubbles of troubles
And the sharks frenzied in a poem's head
Are more or less fed
As with that imaginary fawn
A man would venture
Down to the beach each dawn
To build his woman
Out of the moist sand
Glad fingers lending a hand
Needless to say
All her body parts
Were woven of sand
Including her heart
And neath the sandy gown
Her womb - the piece de resistance
Which ached for a man
Not necessarily made of sand
To ignite the passion in her to dance
It is sad to say
The man would
Never see the day
That this woman
Which he had woven out of sand
And impregnated
Would deliver their child
For alas the next morn
Would reveal no child of theirs being born
But a woman wisked away
By the ravenous tides
As had all the rest of the would be brides
Along with their mounds
To become part of lore
Along the gloomy shore
11/01/2018 Posted on 11/01/2018
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/03/18 at 01:37 AM You dazzle with imagery here, Philip, and the whole sand woman idea such a fine poetic device. Loved the bazooka gum blowing bubbles of troubles. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 11/06/18 at 02:09 PM Excellent expression of a special loneliness, Philip. Beautiful and tragic in its own unique way, eloquently captured as only you can. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 12/08/18 at 02:15 AM A piece which makes my mind swim with oh so any thoughts. This pome will not let me go I fear. |
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