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A Poet and Her Day
Contributed by
Ina
on
Wednesday, 9th June 2004 @ 03:12:34 PM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
They all leave for work
in the city fields
plowing the highways
carrying horses on their backs
and bread in their briefcases.
I stay home
my turtle shell
made of cemented hearts
with air holes
fir for your eyes
White floors
like my pupils
because I am blind
of course.
My legs fold upon my head
I wait for the world
to come home
to return to me.
Inside me a blender of
loneliness
exotic fruits
regret
a little of shame
flower-less
Only four rooms
four hundred places
to sleep
an hour in a bathtub
thirty minutes in the oven
forty minutes on the windowsill
two hours underneath the rug
five hours in the etc..,
wait
stones against the old glass window
no just rain
a friendly tear on my nose
now I have someone to talk to
if only it could talk.
Copyright ©
Ina
... [
2004-06-09 15:12:34]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: A Poet and Her Day
(User Rating: 1 )
by reilt on
Wednesday, 9th June 2004 @ 05:21:49 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
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| again i am in utter awe...amazing and beautifully written* |
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Re: A Poet and Her Day
(User Rating: 1 )
by buchi on
Saturday, 3rd July 2004 @ 03:50:00 PM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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| Yes TEAR on your nose will keep you thinking...being alone is never alone as we have recalling to do...a great write.. |
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