SENTINEL POETRY #26 Online Magazine Monthly, January 2005
Walking the Dog
A meaningful task - I take the spiritual path
Walking the dog and seeing the sights
of Broomfield Car Park.
A steaming cigarette, I pull and lead us forth
We fork through the gravel terrain, walking on a stony bed
That Moses crossed
The water laying still, hidden in the corner
with the shadows and bramble waste.
We walk with haste.
The portly dog, he waddles by while I assume the air
Twinkling lights - a whores lair
Are things we pass
Stone and concrete, weeping grass
I hold my breath and let my mind
Unwind without a source of air
I keep the walking, absorbing the black
Free without a care.
Time ticks on, my lungs expand
and I feel a numbness close to hand
Lungs to burst! They might explode!
We walk on more, the heavy load
Is soothing: like an itch that’s good to scratch
And a pain that I deserve.
Finally - a struggle. I relax, and breathe it out
And the fullest breath that I deserve -
It follows further now with ripest course.
A cool dose
Soothing my throat and voice
It tastes like milk.
And at last I’m left to make
The dog, he follows
As I make the journey home
Me to the armchair
He to bone.
And my muscles lay unrestricted
And I breathe the warming fire
Where I crave for a milky cup of tea
and the conversation’s dire.