Pool of creation


Pool of creation

Those tentacles have taken hold of me

I flounder and struggle to keep afloat

With head held just above water

I give life to a torturous ode.

 

Deeper into the quagmire, the wild weeds entice

A lotus folds its petals, trapping exploring limbs inside

Overhanging boughs of wizened trees rake my upturned face

In the writhing throes of creation, I straighten the twisted lies.

 

Between the miasmic plains and myth-infested forest

This marsh has been the grave for many muse lovers

They hang on to frail roots, unwilling to be prey

Yet destined to be swallowed by mires of churning whey.

 

Open- jawed alligators sniff at ornate poetic skulls

Gazing fascinated-at fools who brave a dip into hell!

 


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