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SENTINEL POETRY #26 Online Magazine Monthly, January 2005 |
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BEN BARTON 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 A choice. 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. |