Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Pit Pony

When the words spur(n) me,
I'm like a pit pony pushed to the light; I blink
and drink in the riot 

of the leaves 
changing.

Outside
the cancerous cage of the mine, my mind,
there is air to spare -

it's amazing to me

all the grace that awaits
when I stop chasing 
some damn turn of phrase

and just open my eyes.

A work in progress for The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

15 comments:

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Oh, WOW! How I adore this!!!!! My fave this week.

Sylvia K said...

Terrific, as always! You do know how to start my day!! And, may you have a great one, MZ!!

Jim said...

Good start, here's hoping for the 'progress'.
My glasses aren't too good, I had trouble with the third line, word NOT. I won't say what I had you reading in, but it wasn't "and drink in the riot." 'n' or 'ri'?
..

brudberg said...

I like the way you build a poem.. I can feel my fingers itching to write when I read this.

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Loved how you turned the camera on yourself. Great.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Ah yes, indeed. :)

Gail said...

Not fair! Sherry used my "oh, Wow!" What can I say? Keep 'em coming, your words are like soft rain in a drought.

Susan said...

That moment of stopping the chase! Revelation! The pit pony is a totally devastating image.

thotpurge said...

Gorgeous!

Kerry O'Connor said...

This is excellent, MZ. What an analogy!

blueoran said...

Above the lintel of the Gate to Paradise it is surely inscribed: Oh Lighten Up, Pal. This pocket aria rocks.

georgeplaceblog said...

and just open my eyes.

Terrific

Helen said...

Awaiting grace ... what a lovely concept.

Fireblossom said...

Which is why, given the choice, 5 out of 5 ponies prefer meadows to mines.

Marian said...

Yes, yes. Must remember this!