08-27-2015, 04:35 PM
This is the original. I am still working on editing 1,2 and this one. As usual, any feedback is appreciated. I know that it is too rhymey and Hairy MacLearyish. I am working to remedy this.
Blue Lady 3
The shepherd’s nose twitches high in the air.
It smells so familiar but there’s nothing here.
Bounding down, through the blades,
nose to the ground as sunlight fades.
Men in red follow the hound
to a secret place rarely found.
Hooks and knives lay oddly strewn
with rod and sack, and unseen tomb.
The hound found a scent down quite low
Where the boy once stood, just three days ago.
The men hike down to where soft
grass gives way to jagged rocks.
A shouting searcher by the bay
covers his mouth, turns and groans.
But others see him; they know what’s there
some feel sorrow, others fear.
The lady took him to her bed
then spat him out all ripped and red.
The day’s run out, they need to haste
and bag what’s left, his life erased.
At home the dust is swept from the photo box
where his memories are seen through wailing eyes.
A mourning mother’s mourning tear
a mourning father’s morning beer.
The men in red leave blue lady’s breast.
They gather the boy and leave the rest.
She watches, quietly musing
she wants to take one of her choosing.
Calmly stalking from her bay
She wants to take one but not today.
“Respect the lady” she hears some flack
as man in red shouts, “Watch your back!”
Blue Lady 3
The shepherd’s nose twitches high in the air.
It smells so familiar but there’s nothing here.
Bounding down, through the blades,
nose to the ground as sunlight fades.
Men in red follow the hound
to a secret place rarely found.
Hooks and knives lay oddly strewn
with rod and sack, and unseen tomb.
The hound found a scent down quite low
Where the boy once stood, just three days ago.
The men hike down to where soft
grass gives way to jagged rocks.
A shouting searcher by the bay
covers his mouth, turns and groans.
But others see him; they know what’s there
some feel sorrow, others fear.
The lady took him to her bed
then spat him out all ripped and red.
The day’s run out, they need to haste
and bag what’s left, his life erased.
At home the dust is swept from the photo box
where his memories are seen through wailing eyes.
A mourning mother’s mourning tear
a mourning father’s morning beer.
The men in red leave blue lady’s breast.
They gather the boy and leave the rest.
She watches, quietly musing
she wants to take one of her choosing.
Calmly stalking from her bay
She wants to take one but not today.
“Respect the lady” she hears some flack
as man in red shouts, “Watch your back!”