Thursday, April 11, 2013

ANOTHER DAY - A stab at poetry

The grey blue color of winter skies,
And woolen clothes hiding flaccid thighs;
Of stop and go and pump and grind ‘em,
Of shallow youth and callous mayhem;
Of guns like coins in pockets hidden,
In yards of schools where once forbidden;
Jackhammers drilling and corporate shilling,
The waters flowing with toxins killing;
Of shedding off the skin of daylight,
And stresses making heart and lips tight;

Of flipped on switches birthing squares yellow,
The lives beyond seeking moments mellow;
Of calls from strangers with garbage to sell,
In hours of respite where persons dwell;
Of times despairing and sound bites swearing,
That life is ending and no one’s caring,
While night time shadows in bedrooms massing.
Yet one more day in a life that’s passing.


merylann said...

You are so damn talented. I enjoyed your poem and empathized with it. Did you have to bring up my flaccid thighs? Yikes.

PRPaula said...

I just did a dramatic out loud reading of that (inherently dramatic your words) and it was beautiful and heartfelt. Paul and I are discussing it now...xoxoxo

Elise said...

Wow. I want to make this into a Dylan song. You are very telented, indeed.

I am not sure what account will be attached to my comment, but this is Elise speakingt, wherever I am...