A Calf Of My Insemination.
Poem By sangay darock
Eventually a calf was calved,
with a star, stripe and a snip,
half stockings over the typical jersey fawn,
countenance of that double disc carved,
haunch weak and tender as lips,
hobbling over that yellow lawn.
reminiscing those days in OG ward,
all puerile ways to promulgate
then chances in routine for an insemination,
remember? for your chances how firm you stood like a guard,
facing trifles, almost a scuffle and then placate,
for it was all tyros' determination.
but opportunities did seldom knock,
of which some denied, some rendered but obfuscated,
to televise your fiasco with puce and puckerred face,
and your hair tousled, at the corner you lock,
yourself, and when a chance granted,
like a lunatic we used to prance.
with that young blood's exalting hope,
face dissolving in the ephemeral smile
and with one hand in the parrafined glove you commence
ha ha, to get lost in an enormous rectal globe
seeming dark, spacious and dimensions in miles,
to feel, none but dung in dense.
yet you remember; solution wasnt to renounce,
as from few to more the chances grew,
like the dexterity in my hands,
when one day my hard work of an ounce,
was to be remunerated as i knew
and the complexity to meet its end.
cervix anchored with the left hand then
in right a gun so held
crossing the blokades in tandem
that once stood bigger than a hill
vaginal fold, os then the rings
and that semen deposited in her womb
for which now a calf is calved.