spit, mixed with dirt – muddy words flow
slipping the leash
running fast with one quick glance
over her shoulder
there’s love and comfort there
but wild darkness just through the trees
pathless trails swallow her whole
she begins to forget
branches tear at her hair
she early on lost her cloak
when the clouds burst open
there was no surprise in her rolling eyes
a constant ache in her belly
her teeth gnaw at her knuckles
itchy skin and caked, chipped nails
it’s always been this way
she doesn’t deserve anything better
if she’s honest with herself
just a dirty, mangy, worthless bitch
not all who wander are lost
sometimes they just don’t know any better
tara caribou | ©️2018
*please remember, this work has nothing to do with or about or towards the blogger mentioned, simply that I used their blog name/title/tagline as a writing prompt.
Thank you, Brian. Here’s #mygifttoyou
At first glance your words appear simple and straight. But there’s a lot more beneath them, isn’t there? I like the layers I read in your poetry. The heart and the soul, tears and softness, too. The reality. And I like how nice you are. ~tara
original artwork and the occasional rant
Art Consignments in Ninilchik, Alaska
Apologies for my apologies
Poetry by Charles Joseph
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
Writer and Artist
a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind
Poetry, Photography, and Thoughts
The Lies in the Skies Exposed
"When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am..." --Maya Angelou
Welcome to my tiny corner of the universe filled with poems that I have written.
Author | Freelance Writer | Blogger
livingforthemoon
Butterwell's Blog
This is so poignant. Nice presentation.
LikeLike
Lovely work, Tara, and thank you so much for my gift and your kind words. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m glad you liked it Brian.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love the last two lines.
LikeLike
I like the image of a self-made dark neck of the woods with sharp, bare branches out for blood, and the helpless refugee in the heart of darkness, chewing on knuckles with blackened, chipped nails under dirt-caked lips and pearly white teeth. So the self-loathing and the willing distance from the warm and comfortable shines through – which fits perfectly (PERFECTLY) with that finisher.
Hello, darkness my favourite poetry background or subject and friend…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes! I thought it was a really good image myself, the half-crazed, almost feral to domesticated comparison.
LikeLike