How patiently you wait
with eight gesticulate legs
appended to a body flat
and hard as an old toenail.
Your name is the sound
of one second passing.
nasty little buggers too…we are in dear tick country here…and got lyme’s disease from one a few years back…i have little mercy on the bloodsuckers…smiles.
A kind tribute to an unkind part of nature.
…I know these buggers well (three dogs and a horse) cats seem safe enough inside, but I check them all the same. It has been a crazy year for ticks! I would have liked your poem better if it had ended in its doom and destruction!
strong short verse, packing so much into these six lines, nicely done. thanks
i never had one but my husbands seem to attract them…cool verse…who would’ve thought that someone would write a poem about them…poetry everywhere – i like..smiles
thank you, claudia, 🙂
Very cool, tight verse Ray!
Well,one of my favorite Stones quotes–an amazing header image, I was already happy–then I read the poem. Just excellent micropoetry–I really envy those like yourself who have this gift of distilling words down to an arrowpoint–fine poem.
thanks, HW, i’ve been writing shorter lately, lacking a certain joie de vivre
How clever, the tie-in between your title and your closing line.
For some reason, I have to make everything symbolic. So to me, the tick is a woman you couldn’t care less about. She may have a hot and hard little body, but she is always in attack mode, flailing her arms and running her mouth, “patiently” waiting for you to do exactly what she wants in exactly the way she wants it done. So quickly will you flick her away; even the sound of her name is grating. I don’t think she’s your type, to say the least. How on earth did you end up with her at all? That’s what I’m left wondering.
Reblogged this on henna ink.
thank you, poet-friend
Ooh, or maybe “one second passing” means you’re going back for a second round with her. 🙂 Hee hee. I know. I’m silly! But making this stuff up is so much fun to me.
you could be right. or it could be about litle bugs. on ne sait jamais
More than likely, it’s about bugs. But you know, I have to play. That’s what makes poetry so much fun.
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Ray Sharp, The Bard of Liminga