I like dreaming—
I lay in bed to sleep—
I feel piano wire
tying its way around my neck.
I wake up to shower,
and I make a rug in the drain.
I drive and watch people cursing
and screaming—
all of them screaming at me.
Why can’t I go faster,
or slower,
or perhaps just not go at all?
I arrive at work,
and I know I have to do
this job, or whatever.
Something tells me
this isn’t all I can do;
(but) People tell me
this is all I’m good for.
I used to wake up
and drag a comb
through my dark hair, down
to its curly roots.
I used to shower
and watch suds and water
disappear.
I’d go to school
and be able to hold my hands
in a fashion I chose.
I’d day dream
while gazing at the playground
and those word smothered breezes
from the teacher would blow over my head.
I think that was the way to live.
A contest entry
- Metaphorical beauty 5 options by bigXfatXemo.
525 points, ended April 12, 2007, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Deep by A Poet Named Kyoto.
600 points, ended April 9, 2007, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Great poem, very well written. Interesting topic. Thank You for entering.
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Cool
Ooo I liked how the subject of this poem was so differnt to the rest of what I normally read, though because of that I wasn't actually sure which option you'd gone for, so if you could message me that would be great =]
I liked the repetition of refernced to hair and work, fitted well with the routine described in the poem. The emotion was fairly subtely put across in terms of word use, but you still managed to get a real feel for the way you were coping.
Overall a great write, good luck in my contest!
Frankie xXx
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Number 3: I painted you a picture.
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