Ditch the ads, upload images and much more - upgrade today from 5.95/month!
Read Contests Groups Learn Forums Store Help
 

Spring Cleaning.

Though it's winter.
Music. Busy hands.
A soft rag and a musty swirl of white
Fssssh, fsssh, the polish.
Crackly yellow smell.
It crawls over vases, tiny animals of glass
The spotted mirror.

A china mask.
I pull the duster over it
like a shroud.

I've always been this way.
I make up words for everything
chyvny, liep, grufes, appa, dúm, leck, zvey
bestes, both and bolfes-nif
senerus and yudis
jahud, brek, mackury.
(oh, I've got one for you.)

blow off the fragments
two halves of a face in the split glass
my reflection tips the wink
in a thousand tiny shards

rhythmic sobs
my mouth speaks like a spoilt child
i want it i want it
i want it iwanta iwanta
Want, want, want.
Oh, mother! it isn't fair!

the hoover
rddddd
    rddddd
rddd rrdddddrrrrdd rrdddd           

finally quiet, I listen to my own heart
and the

whit whit whit

of the cd player
as it runs out of steam
at the end of track twelve


Author notes

I know it's a bit weird. I'm likely to go back and edit this.

Please tell me what you think

    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
    : , Your review:

    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
    Line numbers  • Invite them to read
    : no Cost: 0 free left 0 points, You have (?)

Comments


  • weewatto
    February 5, 2009

    Edit | Reply

    It's...

    ...fab. A moment in amber, you've caught every tiny subtlety of a frantic mind, proper good lovely.

    Don't edit too much eh?

    xxx


    • Uhs Feth Malorn
      February 5, 2009
      Edit | Reply
      Thank you so much. xxx
      I've missed you! How's it all going?


      • weewatto
        February 6, 2009
        Edit | Reply

        Awww....

        ...you too. Going OK, I've come to the conclusion that I actually NEED to write. I haven't done anything for a long time for various reasons, including ignoring being put through to the second round of a contest that I just haven't had the inclination or drive to continue...feel really bad about it...but I'm feeling the effects of not writing...it's like an exorcism of sorts that purges this la-la-fantasy-parallel-universe thing that insists on carrying on in my head, detaching me from all reasonable, reality-based behaviour.

        Bet you wish you'd never asked now

        How's you? xxx


        • Uhs Feth Malorn
          February 6, 2009
          Edit | Reply
          No, I know what you mean. I absolutely need to write, I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't any more, because it's just...well, it's vital to life, isn't it? Oh, poor you! We must get you writing again. Is there anything I can do to help stimulate the muse? xxx