Pain hangs over
her eye lashes, like
fraying laundry
forgotten on
rust-skin poles.
I wonder
who’s rape-seed memories
she cradles
on sleepless nights?
What lullabies she sings?
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About Me
- Pat Paulk
- 2009! 57 years ago in April I was a 2# squealing baby boy. Got a wonderful tan in an incubator. Made friends with plastic tubing, needles and tape. All of which I have zero recollection. I've been well watered and fertilized over the years, and grown quite ripe. Plastic tubing, needles and tape are catalysts for flashbacks without the buzz. Enjoy!
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11 comments:
Such unhappiness people live in. They have it as their reality and share it with those who come in contact with them. They poison the world surrounding them with their minds. This is a theme I've been working on lately. I'll post that poem soon. Write On!
awwww that sad ,,,,
what made u write that?
there is a gentleness to this which captivated me
good work
(maybe i'm not as cold as i thought) :)
hey pat,
i wrote another one...
kai
Thanks Russell!
Kai, this a poem about someone I met recently. Not anger in her eyes, just a deep sadness that aged her way beyond her years.
Thanks Jon! Keep up the artwork!
Floots, some how I think the only thing cold about you is the climate you live in. Thank you!
Thanks Lee, yes it is. See comment to Kai.
a moving tribute to a wounded soul!
Did I catch the mood of this one today?
Thank you Polona. There are a lot of them out there.
Borut I'm not sure...
EC, I will!
The opening of this poem is fantastic and sad all at once. Well done.
Haunting...But beautiful...This might be my favorite.
i am with floots, there is such gentleness in between your lines.
Did she know that you noticed?
you are very observant. nice, as always!
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