Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Shaken

I feel much riper than ever before
but still so immature
uncertain why I now abhor
the innocently pure—

perhaps a greenish worm infests
to turn my bounty fallow
a greedy grub whose gnaw ingests
more core with each new swallow

along with every precious bit
of pulp that hasn’t dried
to form a leper’s rattle
from the bitter seeds inside.

4 comments:

Shirley said...

Maybe you need to be stirred rather than shaken? Sorry, I owed you one. ;)

ozymandiaz said...

feelin some age there are we?

S.L. Corsua said...

This is yet again an addition to my favorites among your rhymes, Bob. I love reading it again and again (the cadence is addictive). ;)

Also, this is one of those poems I'd really like to see in print with an accompanying illustrator's sketch.

Cheers.

rch said...

lol, good one Shirl!

eh, what's that sonny?

Hi s.l. thanks your comments always make my day :D