Poem Hunter
Domestic Love(Beastiality)
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Domestic Love(Beastiality)

Poem By Titto Mutny

That first smack of water
from the tap against the tile
is where it all ends as day begins.

Liquid visions of night-drugged dreams
roll down the shower glass and slide
into the gulf of morning.

I imagine diligent facts, random genius,
clever retorts swelling together
in some ethereal ocean, memories reaching skyward
as tiny peaks on its surface.

Standing naked halfway between sleep
and reason, senses freed of sense,
my toes touch the tips of imagination.

How I long to grip sleep's splintery oars
where, settled in my little blue rudderless boat,
I set sail to ride the tides of my dreams.

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 6

Comments (6)

Just splendid, Lori, and a virtual anthem for those of us who are not 'morning people.' I love it when a poet paints, so vividly, the details of daily life that the rest of the world neither notices nor tries to examine. Don
This is brilliant Lori. The way you've described that feeling of being in the shower half-asleep yet knowing we have to face the day.......great job! Very good poem. :) Sincerely, Mary
Lori, This flows like the water, and I have only one suggestion: I tripped a little over the word 'again' in the last stanza. Good work.
SLIDING INTO THE GULF OF MORNING! Awsome imagery...good writing, Lori. I loved this one.
Lori, aside from the wonderful word choices, the flow n' rhythm of this poem pleases my mind big-time. I totally relate and wish I'd written this. Write on, woman! ...
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