Members Profile


Gary Kedron buffalo / United States, 46
Stage
21 Points

Latest 5 Poems of Gary Kedron

Friends of Gary Kedron

No record.

Gary Kedron's last comments on poems and poets

  • POEM: Tissues by Doyen Lingua (3/11/2014 6:00:00 PM)

    Daniel....great perspective, with feeling of contempt, the the great Titans of the woods made into tissue.
    great bio! ! Great writing, thanks for the invite and comment on mine....

  • POEM: Tissues by Doyen Lingua (2/21/2014 12:20:00 AM)

    Here I sit in the middle of this, your garden
    umguarded by the Guardians
    so Avant-gardr
    Amazing Write! ! ! !

  • POEM: Manic Depression by Beauteous Victory (2/8/2014 1:33:00 AM)

    :)) creeps me out..... thats a very good bad thing! !
    love it Beauteous victory! !

Read all 62 comments »

Gary Kedron's comments on forums

  • Gary Kedron (1/4/2013 1:32:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi,
    New to putting thoughts into words......
    Love to write whats going on inside, kinda scarry sometimes what comes out.....kinda amazing also, would like some feedback.....enjoy the poems. thanks.


    Thy Hunts Mans Hound


    By thy side,
    follow
    obey.

    Oak
    Elm
    Beach.

    Into thy Majesty's wood,
    hunt,
    for thy elusive
    Stag.

    Not
    of golden fleece,
    folklore,
    nor
    legend
    do thy seek.

    Thy secret,
    all
    on
    to
    thee.

    Thy sent
    aloft
    breezes carry.

    Unbeknown
    to
    He.

    Intoxicating,
    Thy musk
    Thy smell
    Thy sweat.

    Taste
    on thy
    lips.

    Thy tongue,
    teeth
    lodging
    into thou hide.

    From thy mill pond,
    pluck thy goose,
    that thy flesh
    covers thee.

    Go now,
    find,
    cries out
    within.

    Bound off
    over moss laden
    rocks.

    Leaves,
    upon thy earth
    of seasons past
    crush beneath
    pads
    of thy feet.


    Over fallen titans
    of
    thy wood,
    I
    leap
    in
    haste.

    There
    before
    thee,
    thy
    Stag.

    Shake thy head,
    thy antlers
    thy rack,
    velvet
    pulled
    back.

    Which once
    adorned
    thee
    in
    thy
    youth,
    no longer
    a
    button
    buck.

    Chase,
    run,
    flee,
    thy cloven hoof.

    Take thee along
    into
    thy
    realm.

    Side by side,
    breast against belly,
    in rhythm
    same pace
    with stride.

    Over hedge rows,
    through thickets,
    brambles thorn.

    Lashing
    across
    flesh,
    gashes torn,
    I
    bleed
    for
    thee.

    Stand there
    confront
    surrender
    exhausted,
    froth on thy muzzle,
    thy rapid breath.

    Smell of thy effort,
    no
    escape.

    Stay
    thy
    chase.

    So I may,
    hunt thy Stag
    yet again,
    catch thy sent,
    intoxicating insanity,
    what
    of
    that
    which
    I
    do
    seek.

    I am thy Hunts mans Hound, thee be thy Stag.


    Gary Kedron

  • Gary Kedron (1/4/2013 1:25:00 PM) Post reply

    Wow....Got the point....spoke to me very loud....great poem!

  • Gary Kedron (1/4/2013 1:20:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Would like some feed back on this poem..... I like it think it flows well and can follow it while reading.....thanks.....

    Thy Hunts Mans Hound


    By thy side,
    follow
    obey.

    Oak
    Elm
    Beach.

    Into thy Majesty's wood,
    hunt,
    for thy elusive
    Stag.

    Not
    of golden fleece,
    folklore,
    nor
    legend
    do thy seek.

    Thy secret,
    all
    on
    to
    thee.

    Thy sent
    aloft
    breezes carry.

    Unbeknown
    to
    He.

    Intoxicating,
    Thy musk
    Thy smell
    Thy sweat.

    Taste
    on thy
    lips.

    Thy tongue,
    teeth
    lodging
    into thou hide.

    From thy mill pond,
    pluck thy goose,
    that thy flesh
    covers thee.

    Go now,
    find,
    cries out
    within.

    Bound off
    over moss laden
    rocks.

    Leaves,
    upon thy earth
    of seasons past
    crush beneath
    pads
    of thy feet.


    Over fallen titans
    of
    thy wood,
    I
    leap
    in
    haste.

    There
    before
    thee,
    thy
    Stag.

    Shake thy head,
    thy antlers
    thy rack,
    velvet
    pulled
    back.

    Which once
    adorned
    thee
    in
    thy
    youth,
    no longer
    a
    button
    buck.

    Chase,
    run,
    flee,
    thy cloven hoof.

    Take thee along
    into
    thy
    realm.

    Side by side,
    breast against belly,
    in rhythm
    same pace
    with stride.

    Over hedge rows,
    through thickets,
    brambles thorn.

    Lashing
    across
    flesh,
    gashes torn,
    I
    bleed
    for
    thee.

    Stand there
    confront
    surrender
    exhausted,
    froth on thy muzzle,
    thy rapid breath.

    Smell of thy effort,
    no
    escape.

    Stay
    thy
    chase.

    So I may,
    hunt thy Stag
    yet again,
    catch thy sent,
    intoxicating insanity,
    what
    of
    that
    which
    I
    do
    seek.

    I am thy Hunts mans Hound, thee be thy Stag.


    Gary Kedron

Read all 5 forum messages »
[Hata Bildir]