His saliva drips onto my velvet lapel and though
we've been feeding him well, I'm never sure
if this time when he opens his mouth
it's just a yawn. We are all shedding
apart; my grey hairs resemble his more
each day. Even the whip sags, the old prop chair
going brown at the nails.
We're not sure what to do with him
after the spotlights close their apertured eyes
and he stands in his cage, waiting with his mouth
hinged open for hours, but we know Pride
is a word we used to be a part of.
Prompt via bigtentpoetry.org
10 comments:
Sad when we're no longer up to it. I like the use of "Pride".
Oh, that ending is so sad but perfect!
Very sad poem and well done for the prompt.
Pamela
Nathan, your profile reads:
The poem arrives with a black eye, a split lip, saying "Yeah, well you should see the poet."
This poem leaves the clear impression of a poet bloodied by the reality portrayed. Moving!
Ah, the inevitablily of aging! Poor old lion, hope they keep him around.
I really liked your piece!
wow. this works really well! even if we didn't consider it about lions -- it works.
so glad you've joined the circus!
So poignant, yet still there is mystery: ... I'm never sure/ if this time when he opens his mouth/ it's just a yawn. ... I particularly like the repeated un-sure of "what to do with him" ...
So glad you joined the circus! Thank you!
The end is like that, I think. Pride is gone and the mouth hangs open. Sad and yet alive with reality. Nice.
The use of "Pride" really touches me. Decline of the once glorious is so hard.
I read this as a very mysterious poem...you used great descriptions but also kept the reader wondering. Great work.
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