The haughty bottle stands.
It’s long neck raising it’s head,
Chin up to the sky.
A brown cloak drapes down
It’s round corpulent belly,
Encasing it in a transparent eggshell,
Easily cracked and broken
From the outside.
Through the clouded tint of brown,
And the white glare wobbling down,
You can vaguely decipher the outline
Of an embryo inside-
A miniature full grown man.
There he squats in a puddle
Of the remainder of the drink.
He leans against the walls,
Hunched over, holding his knees,
Staring at the circular floor.
His eyes follow the train track ridges,
Circling round and round the bottom,
Locked onto the staggering pattern,
Entranced by it’s supernatural draw.
He once looked up at the skylight…
Imagining himself reaching
To that small opening above,
And clawing out of his bottle.
But that hope was only an oasis
On a crooked timeline.
Author notes
Written for a class.... but I chose "rorrim eht" instead. Still this one's not bad- I rather like it.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
This is such a good poem... You have a real talent for making the reader feel the moment, the anguish, the entrapment, the desolation of being an alcoholic.
Excellent !!
Dee
-
Crazy. I had to read this twice. Is is about alcoholism or am I on completely the wrong train of thought? If I'm right, then it was excellent (of course it's still good even if I'm wrong D )As usual, your word choice and personification skills amaze me. I loved the classification of the bottle as haughty and the response of the man to his imprisonment. Nice work!
-
-
ya- it's about alcoholism... glad you liked it
-
Adding your comment:
