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Dried Rust





you hung a wind chime
twenty years back
in the room we shared:
it glittered in the sun
and sang with the wind
and we sloppily danced with grins on our faces.

I would slice apples
and tease you with its sweet juice
and you would complain that I never shared,
yet you knew
that I always reserved a portion for you.

The apples have dried now,
the wind chime rusted;
I sit in a corner and stare at them
wishing I could have protected them
from time.

My chipped nail polish
is a constant reminder
of my incompetence
to maintain the weres as ares.
And no matter how many times I try to cover it up,
it chips again.

Dry fruits may be tasty,
but the ones I collect
are only the sour ones.
              And the rust on them
              can never be chipped apart.







Author notes

Prompt: Incapable

T h e T h i r d E y e

A contest entry

Critiques welcome!

    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

1 - 7 of 7
  • and tease you with its sweet juice
    and you would complain that I never shared,
    yet you knew
    that I always reserved a portion for you.
    -aww that moment is so sweetly captured in that stanza; it made me smile :]

    The apples have dried now,
    the wind chime rusted;
    I sit in a corner and stare at them
    wishing I could have protected them
    from time.
    -aww gosh; this is so sad.

    And no matter how many times I try to cover it up,
    it chips again.
    -i hate nail polish when it does that..

    i really love the last stanza. god this poem is just so gorgeous and revels in such excellence. just please put your name spaced out in your AN.

    FINALIST


    • Well, thank you!
      I'm glad it touched you enough to put me among the finalists. Thanks for the prompts again. Your choices are good.

      Thanks loads!
      bless ya!

  • hi; just commenting to say the contest is over and i will be judging soon, so please finish your poem.

    • i'm sorry. my head is dead. but i did what i could with my little dead head.

  • hmm; i have little idea what that last line says;; but here's some words. (only use one)

    Word:
    routine

    .or.

    pyre

    .or.

    incapable

    • oh, and the last line is "please" in french.

    • your words are an awesome pic, but my mind can't seem to think enough.
      thanks though. maybe i'll be inspired by them another time.

1 - 7 of 7