I died on your doormat yesterday
bleeding my soul onto the arial font
reading 'welcome'
As my hand grazed the grid straw
I felt as though I belonged here
waiting for your uncaring hikers boots
to rub its rubber soles against me
so the dirt was with the dirt
I suppose.
There was a flower trampled upon your doorstep
crinkled from winter and wear
once prest against your chest
pinned by nervous trembling fingers
when I pricked your chest with the pin
I made you feel vulnerable
and you couldn't stand it
you tossed my tulip on the doorstop
next to the victorian cursive
engaved 'welcome'
I was never truly welcome
was I.
A contest entry
- A Few Options by Leonura.
900 points, ended November 11, 2008, 10 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
criticm welcome.
Comments
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I can easily see why you won silver.It is truely good writing.You are very talanted at writing.This speaks volumes in what you are saying and I think many others can relate to you well.Great job.I think the end is fitting,I was never truely welcome was I .
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I made you feel vulnerable
and you couldn't stand it <<< this is how many men feel and you have shown the frailties of male emotion
a great write from a terrific poet
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It's beautiful. I can feel the pain in your words.
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