SWEET CHILD
written by: Jim Bellamy
reap now, sweet child; my rooms are spare,
whose scarce horizons cry you clear,
of strangest sermons; reap these years,
sweet child, whose eyes I mould.
In open mouths, these caverns spark
caves of canine devils; barks
strip of them, blind interludes,
vulture gullies, cloven hooves.
reap now, sweet child, o, sweet child, reap,
these babbling years; my rooms are neat,
whose scarlet ruled horizons cry
you clear of strangest sermons; DIE!
or reap & spear me, mother, child,
whose eyes are rolling cold,
in the open mouths; the cavern ducts,
where the boy in man blows old.
reap now, sweet child, reap now, & spear
these idylls; reap, my girl, since I,
am blind with you, your bark, your stare,
who mould of me this cloven lie.
Jim Bellamy was born in a storm in 1972. He studied hard and sat entrance exams for Oxford University. Jim has won three full awards for his poems. Jim has a fine frenzy for poetry and has written in excess of 22,000 poems. Jim adores the art of poetry. He lives for prosody.
Latest posts by Jim Bellamy (see all)
- A Reptilian Discovery - June 7, 2024
- Hospice - March 19, 2024
- About All Hallow’s Eve? - November 5, 2023
