To
Grasp Red-Rift Of Coat
©
2018 Harold Bo Clapsaddle, a hardball clod posed
The red-rift of
dawn
crowns
this poets throat
while
dancin’ on a smooth lawn
God’s
glory be it as I have wrote.
Somehow
as the tree limbs shook
it
gave no lie to the North or South
for
under my hair my eyes did look
at
the red-rift that has struck my mouth.
In
longer stint will the noon-tide follow
yet
employ’d now in ripping blue lace
of
a new born sky given lyric of Apollo
the
red-rift pounces tribute on my face.
Lest
I forget, to clear my throat
so
not to miss the boat with this quote:
“To
wrestle with new dawns goat take note,
we
poet’s do gloat to grasp red-rift of coat”.
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