Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Hard times

The cab driver’s leash
skinned
his glistening black hide.
Head high
and goaded often,
he made it till
the Ludgate Hill.
But
his exhaustion and their luggage
beat him.
His feet slipped
and the wagon toppled.
Short-winded,
He rose again.
Leastways, tried.



10 comments:

  1. Sounds exhausting..you captured the scene perfectly with the words you chose. I felt such pity. Must have been an awful heavy wagon. Well done!

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    1. Thank you Kathy ... I am glad that the scene gets conveyed. I really appreciate your visits:)
      Stay blessed,
      Ruby

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  2. You really took me there. Such evocative writing!

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    1. Thank you Susan. Nothing more pleasing to hear than such words. I am glad I could narrate the scene this way

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  3. Great job conveying his struggle.

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    1. Thank you so much Christine. I am glad his struggle came across

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  4. Unique perspective in this little story.

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    1. Thank you Cynk. I am glad to hear such appreciations for this little work

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  5. Very good job describing the events!

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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.