What the…
I open my eyes but it doesn’t help
My fingers trace their way across the wall
Where am I
What happened last night
I remember being in my bed it was nine thirty
Joanne; Joanne are you there
I stumble, falling to the floor
What the…
My hands stuck to something
This is not the time to panic
OK, OK, relax everything is fine
I’ll rest a moment that always helps
Ouch! Now what
I fall again and again then; finally I’m stopped
What’s that
It’s a light someone is coming; Thank god
I can see, but what the hecks going on
How did I get in these clothes, Army green
Cammos I hate cammos and why do I; have a gun
As I look up I see a smiling face is that a boy
Why is he smiling at me, do I know him
What do you mean it’s Christmas
What do you mean I’m “G I Joe”
Happy birthday
A contest entry
- The Box by cricketjeff.
550 points, ended July 30, 2008, 20 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Terrifically different take!
Great stuff and thanks for adding a different dimension to one of my favourite contests so far.
Sorry it has taken me so long to get as far as commenting.
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this reminds me of something I read a few years back...letters to mom and dad
they were from a boy in Nam...and he would sugarcoat the letters to mom...and give dad the real deal
it seems like a dreamstate of sick and tired of being sick and tired
I like when a write makes me think in such a way
excellent
peace Muddy
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Haha. Nice wry humor. I like it. Great job. Best of luck in the contest.
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