Foreword

A Taste Of Paradise is a poetry manuscript modified from a poetry chapbook I wrote under the guidance of Dr. Ricardo Sanchez.

- Stephen W. Cote, July, 1995


A Taste Of Paradise

A collection of poetry by Stephen W. Cote



The Predators Of The Meadow

Warden Of The Wolf

Warden Of Wolves
               Howling it seems
               The pack is in formation
               Hunting they preen
                    - the prey

               Hunting eyes that flash
               Stalking through trees
               The pack armored and brash
                    - in fur

               Through forests of green
               Leaning and swaying trees
               The predators do deem them
                    - the prey

               Lead at the head
               The leader fanged and hot breathed
               The prey falling dead
                    - pack leaders

               Dreaming sweetly in anger
               Under a canvas of stars
               The prey slumbers in danger
                    - for a lifetime
    
Prey Prayers (part ii, revised)
          Absent of word, the mist rolled, fog concaved over me
          In the silence of regret, they pooled together as a team
          Their burdened mouths filled with prey, their ears perking higher
          The country roads and forest paths burned it seems as their howls lit on fire

          Wisps of branches hung just a little lower, the rain pouring down
          The fur on their manes drenched in the shower, their eyes still hunting around
          A perplexity in their motion devoids the eyes of their stare
          In hungry silence and prayerful need, they stalk me to my layer

          The owl on the tree top lied, it told me where to run
          When I turned my back to it, I found I was again where I had only begun
          A mirthful silence deafened my ears, I felt a prey's need
          My feet could carry me fast enough, but not far from fast to bleed

          Looming in, the darkness of the storm, launched a new fear alive
          My knuckles white, my heart ripping my chest, Lord knows I still have to try
          The damnable leader closes on me, his teeth beckon me in
          I watch in a burning quiet the rain baptizing away my sin

          Hope beating through me like blood through a wound, I heard the hungry growl
          I wished I could live a moment more -- and slaughter that bloody owl
          I could taste its blood and feathers filling my mouth, emotions, my eyes
          In the blistering fall of the storm rain's silence, I knew that I might die

          An angel came down to me, seething like a worm in the rain
          She saw that the pack was hungry and that I might soon be in pain
          So I lied to her, and I pushed her as far as I could go
          I yanked the wings off her bloody back and flew home to a place I know

          In years of healing and watching my own pack grow
          The brilliance of a manipulation allowed me a place to show
          That I was weighted down with a guilt to win, and I knew I had one more sin
          For if I ever felt the need, I'd rape the angel of her wings again


Afterwards
               Warning lights flashing with natural grace, it seems
               Easy as a springtime breeze
               Sickly sweet gray in their eyes
               God know it is a hunger to appease

               They hunt and bring down innocent prey
               Their family is all they care for
               When the winter comes and there is no light of day
               They will bring down just one more






Copyright 1995, Stephen W. Cote and The Writer's Gallery.
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Last Updated: 8/11/95