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M. Andrew Sprong

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Member Since: Jan, 2009

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Books
· Haley Cork and the Blue Door


Short Stories
· Doctor of Calamity

· Crunch!

· Chapter 1 of The Clockwork Soul


Articles
· The Anatomy of a Chapter

· The Dangers of Tampering with Nature

· Nanotechnology and the Zero Point


Poetry
· Gully’s Return

· Push me Clara

· Rum Running

· In the Morning

· Abandoned Home – Haiku in 8

· A Teachable Moment (or I Told You So!)

· A Universal Beauty

· A Peasant's Parting

· Weep for the Fallen

· Christmas Reproach

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News
· Naming the Novel

· Haley Cork and the Blue Door

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Books by M. Andrew Sprong
  Awakening the Skin
by M. Andrew Sprong
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Rated "PG" by the Author.

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Recent poems by M. Andrew Sprong
•  Gully’s Return
•  Rum Running
•  Push me Clara
•  In the Morning
•  Abandoned Home – Haiku in 8
           >> View all 60



Clackitty clack clack
Laying in a bed of sour straw as the moon hides behind the frozen hills.
The door on its rails sliding unstuck as I lie reclining near steaming offal.
Clackitty clack clack
My body is brown from summers in the woods catching squirrels,
black hair adorning my bare skin better than a queen’s fine robes
Clackitty clack clack
The steer stand back against the wall showing terror in their large wet eyes
with the torn carcass of their brave brother set between us.
Clackitty clack clack
I shiver, not from the cold, but rather an ending of the ultimate thrill,
of running through farmland and forest as queen of all I smell.
Clackitty clack clack
My body shakes in hunger, not just for meat, but for the power.
Here it has left me with the moon behind a mount a maiden unaged.
Clackitty clack clack
All men like cattle cowered in fear behind their doors but one.
One was brave enough to court me in my wooded sanctuary.
Clackitty clack clack
Now I bear his child and must flee from hearth and home – naked.
For my curse is now his with rage to stir those serene waters.
Clackitty clack clack
How many centuries could I have lived in peace and harmony?
How many legends of skin walkers could I have outlived?
Clackitty clack clack
Eastward we ride to the slaughter houses where the steer will become fast food
and I will terrorize another disbelieving generation of softened fools.
Clackitty clack clack
Now the world is my prey for the sin of waking me from social slumber
and into the changed land will I run like this train – relentless and unstoppable.
Clackitty clack clack clack

 


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