Poetry
Be(a)st
Published in
Jun 13, 2024
Woebegone but not forgotten.
Rough beast lurks near Bethlehem.
Soft as wool and warm as cotton;
root of Jessie, poison stem.
Just a hint of Blue October,
running silent, running deep.
Two years clean but not quite sober.
White of lily, black of sheep.
Hair of dog; the air grows thicker.
Unconditional response.
I’m still here, though will can flicker.
Ostentatious nonchalance.
Giddy with solstitial vigor,
I once set my world ablaze.
June returns each year to snigger;
one, unfit, awash in praise.
© Thomas James 2024. All Rights Reserved.
This poem has been published in The Crooked Circle, a new Medium publication fueled by a small group of extremely talented writers I know. Thanks to all of them. Please read their work. Following would also be a fine idea.
