DESERT TROUT A poem by Duke DesRochers

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Completely ship me, sailing out;

About the brow of Desert Trout.

With fins of glass and salmon doubt.

 

Aboard her lofty hull of skull,

I feel the draw of the pull.

I taste myself; and find it dull.

 

Soft boney combs of skeletal fish.

Fathoms deep will crush and squish,

Where rocks and sticks can only wish.

 

Cool Raybans rest upon the nose.

The rotting smell of tuna rose;

In misty plumes of wingless crows.

 

Do you suppose?

 

To shed your scales in tidbit wails;

With trinkets, stones and bones?

 

The sands will swallow

All who follow.

 

While maggots calculate the end…

The End

The End

The End

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9 Responses to “DESERT TROUT A poem by Duke DesRochers”

  1. And all so morbid.. hmmmm… :P

  2. Duke DesRochers Says:

    go to bed…

  3. [...] poetic. He also writes poetry on his site. In “DESERT TROUT,” he describes his poetry like his artwork: I write my poems like I sculpt… with bits and [...]

  4. Matthew Manker Says:

    Duke, great work! -Matthew “Photon” Manker

  5. but what does it all mean? I knew there was a reason I didn’t like salmon…..

  6. [...] poetic. He also writes poetry on his site. In “DESERT TROUT,” he describes his poetry like his artwork: I write my poems like I sculpt… with bits and [...]

  7. [...] poetic. He also writes poetry on his site. In “DESERT TROUT,” he describes his poetry like his artwork: I write my poems like I sculpt… with bits and [...]

  8. [...] poetic. He also writes poetry on his site. In “DESERT TROUT,” he describes his poetry like his artwork: I write my poems like I sculpt… with bits and [...]

  9. Maestro AL Says:

    Hey Duke! Good form and rhyme! The sense of it can be taken a number of different ways – contemplative, and not overly specific. One would need to apply his imagination – but that’s what true art does – it not only informs, it engages the viewer/reader.

    my compliments!

    I too used to write poetry on occasion (I think I’d like to take it up again) My Grandmother is a well seasoned russian poet. She never tried to publish her collections, or make any profit with her literary art. By profession, she was a Chief Chemist at a ceramic factory in Russia, but has always written on the side in her leisure time. She must have written hundreds of poems – she writes one for every one of her kid’s and grandkid’s birthdays, and other family occasions. And she also wrote words for several dozen hymns now sung by russian-speaking Christians in many countries.
    My mother inherited a small piece of that talent, and I inherited a sliver of it. One of my short poems can be found here:
    http://www.fanart-central.net/chapter-26251.html

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