Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
I was free as she lay,
we both mounted;
the day and the way we lay
with baited loin
were very merry,
the way my mare lay,
playing at supper:
a breast roasted.
I lay with pie.
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 24 February 1659/60.
I live in an Appalachian hollow in the Juniata watershed of central Pennsylvania, and spend a great deal of time walking in the woods. Here’s a bio. All of my writing here is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. For attribution in printed material, my name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact me for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).
heh! love this one too
Oh, thanks! I had my doubts about getting anything out of such a short entry, but all those “lay”s made it clear what I had to do. :)
Oh, yes. A favorite of mine, too!