The drainage pipe runs vertical
like the centre beam
we once gazed from our bed
where chimes and things hung
and frames on walls
from childhood,
ours and our children’s,
and those bargained
at art exhibitions
sat securely and sheltered
from the sun, rain and snow.
Familiar hisses alert my nights
as graffitists spray their anger
against those who blackened
their lives.
Our new home,
with similar walls,
is the chaotic battlefield
I survived,
solitary walls standing,
like drawing boards for street artists,
where you and the children
don’t live in anymore…
Author notes
Picture inspiration: http://imran6sulisto.deviantart.com/art/street-art-112415260
A contest entry
- Prompt: Street Art by Manda Kathryn.
400 points, ended March 25, 4 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
this is a really deep and emotive write, there is a gritty feel to it, full of realism
nice write
-
Thank You for Your Entry ~
Powerfully penned; I like how you personalised this - my favourite part is the second stanza, the familiar hiss is brillant
Best of Luck
♥
Stay safe
~Manda
-
saw the picture
Very good write, i enjoyed it thanks for the share. Nic
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