On Precious Wings or Something

by michaelcahill

Free Form (Love) Contest Winner

Love is the invisible silken thread
connecting
two souls in flight
together

"Gimme that quill, boy.
Yer aunt Tillie, rest in peace,
would soil her diaper
ifin' she read that blarney."

"Auntie taint dead, Uncle Sheamus"

"D'int say she was. Fell ta sleep
on the crapper is all.
Now, let a real man give 'er a go."

Two old birds a flyin'
seems like an eternity
(an almost 'tis).
He looks up at her
a flappin' at the wind.
The old gal's got some spunk
in her, he thinks.

Well, she lets loose a squirt
smack in his eyeballs;
he starts to plummet
to his death.
He's swearin', "I knew y'ad be
the death a me,
ya old crow!"

Before he hits the cold ground
he feels her familiar
rough old feathers
brushing against his wing.

"Here we go now, ya old twerp,
I told ya, don't be
eyein' me bum!"

Like a tornado
who's lost all anger,
they gently spiral
to the ground
together...

"And that, nancy boy, is love."

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Free Form (Love)
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Uncle Sheamus likes to get involved once in a while with my poetic endeavors. To be honest, he drinks a bit. I, of course, have been sober now for ... dammit, where's my watch ...

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An Irish Poetry Throwdown

On Precious Wings or Something

by michaelcahill

Free Form (Love) Contest Winner

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