I am jostled about like a
Doorknob, gold and with a shine
Like a filling,
And a fly between my lips.
My hands curl into me,
Miniature weeping willows,
Over my earth-bed.
My eyelids are shut tight
Like two clams,
My glazed-over eyesockets
The pearls they must protect.
I am jostled about
By a sea of traffic,
But I am not really there.
No more pantheons of rifles,
No more birthday presents wrapped
In cutting piano wire.
There will be no more potatoes and stew.
O thank God!
Thank God that I am
Dead!
Author notes
Wrote this while half asleep as the 1st stanza came into my head while I was sleeping, as what happens often *shrugs*.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Good Golly
This poem is absolutely my favourite poem by you and possibly by anyone on All Poetry. It is such a great idea and the execution belittles your age. You relly are a talented lady. My favourite line is 'My hands curl into me,
Miniature weeping willows,
Over my earth-bed' Quite simply brilliant. free verse poetry of the highest order. Keep up the fantstic work.
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