[Perscription]

The Shaman's son sits silent
upon his stony seat.
His stony eyes sit silent,
flicker rage and then retreat.
He does not deal in sickness
or rotton human meat,
nor does he welcome distress
upon his stony feet.

The Shaman asks a question
and answers all in one.
His son knows this confession,
so listens until he's done.
The Shaman's son's religion
is on his stony gun.
The shame of his submission
on cold stone undone.

[Venomous Vixen]

The shamans son sits silent

shaman's

Also, I think you may want to capitalize 'Shaman' throughout the piece, like you would any proper name or title.

The shamans sons religion

I believe shamans and sons both need apostrophes there, since both are possessing something

Not sure I fully understand this one!?

Let me know when you have edited and I will get it posted for you!

[Perscription]

Thanks for that, pretty lazy of me to put it up like it was. Its a personal piece so I doubt too many will be getting it. Cheers.

[Venomous Vixen]

well then I will not pretend to understand. There were flickers of clarity for me but like most personal pieces, that closeness is lost to the majority of readers. Regardless, I still truly enjoyed this one. You had a great flow going, some playful alliteration to open the piece up and you carried a well weaved pattern throughout. Nice work