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STUNG by the promise of a life overly

SHAPEd by ambition, he learned the hard way:

QUAIL in the hand is better than a newspaper

BLURT or two in the bush

STUNG by words in the

SHAPE of a knife, I

QUAIL before her wounded rage,

BLURT out something about leaving for work.

STUNG by the sight

SHAPE of a child

like QUAIL in a bush

BLURT forth in a noisy life

BLAST

SKULL

VAUNT

LIEGE

If I can’t turn this into a poem about D&D

what good am I.

BLAST from car’s bass rattles my

SKULL. Kids these days.

VAUNT the good old days when youth paid

LIEGE to their elders, like I did. Oh wait…

‘ALIKE as two peas in a pod,’ as she dons her
APRON, readying herself to peel the boxes of
FRUIT, staring at me and my daughters from
UNDER eyelashes soft and long. ‘Them eyes.’

GRASS ruminated

BELCH generated

CROWD of leftovers

SHOWN, never outdated

GRASS overgrown, windows drawn, a

BELCH from within all that notifies the

CROWD that someone still leaves here,

SHOWN to be a lonely man with lonesome ways.

WIDER view will

AWAIT the one who bears his

CROSS in mundane, boring,

MEATY ways.

WIDER is the water than I

AWAIT me the wings to fly

CROSS with my love for aye

MEATY the feast, but ’til then, O waly waly