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Cry Cold Colt


Down the rivers, waterfalls, lakes, streams, creeks

The waters should be wary of the company that comes close to its mud rich borders

Listen close, not to the woods that gives you its greetings

Listen for the damning cry of the cold colt

 

Alluring tricks does it play on the weak and naive

A beautiful women, a flute playing musician who wish for you play

But does it come forth as the black stallion with a tangled mane

Waiting to feel the warmth of a human's touch

 

Cold colts cry is silent and wanting as the stare it gives

The shivering colour of the dew that drips from its hair and muzzle

Standing firm along the water's edge begging for a owners crave

You will wander to pet a kelpies midnight silk fur

 

The grooves of its ribs, the wave of its hairs feel dull and rough

Its glass coated eyes covered by the curtain of moss and weeds 

Sticks and mud breaking, sloshing under its tan stained hooves

Its very murring implores to be ridden 

 

A watery grave has already sealed a soul's fate

Damp musk turns into a rotting corpse of death 

Tar leather sticks to skin, pleads will not spare a hungry beasts desire

An oozing skull with a cracked grin

blood goes frigid with a gasping breath

 

Cold colts cry tears of glee 

Charging into the plane beneath the sky

choking in black visions of the bones that lay downward

Dark secrets always look the sweetest from the surface

of a child’s eyes

 

Down the rivers, waterfalls, lakes, streams, creeks

The waters should be wary of the company that comes close to its mud rich borders

Listen close, not to the woods that gives you its greetings

Listen for the damning cry of the cold colt

 

Alluring tricks does it play on the weak and naive

A beautiful women, a flute playing musician who wish for you stay

But does it come forth as the black stallion with a tangled mane

Waiting to taste the warmth of a human's flesh

 
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Freebird986

Writing is a passion that I harbor in a bottle too often. It's hard for me to express my words out in the open with out stuttering, or losing what I want to say. For me, poems capture what the heart can't say out loud. Poetry helps those thoughts become heard and I am more than willing to hear others as well.

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