While I Climbed, It Creeped

The blanks that bore the bar

Over the letters that sought a seat

Yonder on the feather field

The haunt lights a hint I can’t seethe

Fall is the embrace I brave and breathe


Atop the hill, where the cold hisses

The rattled praise mockery

And driven drivel till snow kisses

And I hold on to bruises

Where Shade warps a sallow niche


Unless the fair wolf the wound

It’s the feast of boredom, of least to-do

Umpteened warning propose an arousal

An excess grant greeds and gallows

All the while, the pond shallows


The bested remain a link weak

The wheeze follows a ripe-trip ripped-reaped

Too old are burrows to bury the weed

Where I claim my envy, I seek

I mead a marrow meant to seed


The barrow barons the baked beat

The tarried tavern the naked heat

To take it home, to sorrow the welled

The empty quarters call for help

While they came at end, they did came at an end


© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2017

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