like watercolors,
clover drips between
sidewalk faults,
laughing at my eyes that arch
perpetually into apology,
swallowing my strength.
no, i cannot speak the earth,
the smell of mud in my throat
like a survivor,
cannot be truth in this garden
of things that bloom.
and i want to be able to unfurl
my petaled face towards the sun,
without shame,
without hating my skin.
but most of all, i want
to breathe my sorrow
when it rains.
the soil is screaming
at these decomposing hands,
but my name
is weed -
and i am stronger than this.
i am stronger than this.
A contest entry
- TI8 - Round 10 - Top 4 - Finale - Assignment 4 by Tangled Angle.
1400 points, ended June 15, 2008, 4 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
critique:
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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I like this one too
Just a random stop on your page.
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wow - i love the twist at the end [even though, really, it isn't a twist] - but it did have that feel a bit for me.
this was stellar. you went about the hard moments - and didnt have the disney-ish happy ending. i love how realistic the ending is, and i can relate to it so much.
excellent.
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this ends like a mantra. i like it. shh...
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oh what an amazing metaphore throughout this piece! strong as weed. i am seriously compelled to tell you that you did strongly in expressing your true need to let people know that you are growing and flowers are too weak!
♥
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forgot these
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hi!i love this. i feel like a weed sometimes, growing where people don't want me and spreading like wildfire. i feel like this is something i would write or want to write. i especially love the first stanza--the word choice is so muddy and colorful.
i can feel the emotion rising in the third stanza.
strong write!
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