“things were feral”

Written for:  The Twiglets #248 - "things were feral"

The feral cat
brought indoors
is not happy.

Feral beings
gather together
for bloodsport.  

on the sidelines
watched with anticipation
girl riding wild horse

           There once was an artist named Jill
             who lived in a cabin on hill.
                 She was emotional
                nursed all sick animals
        who left healed, and did not pay the bill.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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