Thursday, March 19, 2009

The Lake

Out the front gate

Down the dusty lane

Past the old dog with the scary eye
Past the old man's house, straight out of Steinbeck

Big banana trees (I can imagine bigger spiders)
Fire station to your left (I can't remember hearing a siren)

Reach the playing fields
No games today (actually, no games ever)

Skinny horses and skinnier foals
Grazing, pooping

A lone rider enjoying the shallow waters, his two dogs leaping (in tow)
A loner with his pitt bull, straining at the leash

Breaching the peace


Fat Cat said...

Disquieting, awkward and painful.

I hope you are alright?


Luke said...

I suspected my poetry was subpar, but such harsh criticism is almost too much to bear.

More seriously, though, the events of the past week have been an unexpected wake-up call and I wholeheartedly appreciate Fat Cat's concern. The sheer brazenness of such violence should come as no surprise considering the (sub)culture of violence, seemingly perpetuated by drugs, a general irresponsibility evident amongst local males and an almost universal embrace of hate-spewing rap music.

A bit like New York in the late 80s.

Fat Cat said...

Oh, sorry it was a compliment not criticism. I was rather jealous of your literary talent in fact.

Luke said...

Why thank you, FC. I sometimes find poetic posts somewhat trite, but your compliment encourages me to be more bold.

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