A tiny speck of a splinter
moved into the palm of my hand.
I didn’t advertise “skin needing caretaker,
only sharp and pointy apply”.
I’ve made several attempts
to evict the slivery interloper, but
it screams to my bleeding-heart fingers
invoking some archaic squatter’s law.
I have the latest in high tech weaponry,
tweezers and a Swiss Army knife.
I will prevail regardless of consequences
to retain what has been mine since birth.
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13 comments:
The consequences...blood flying, Pat fainting, gangrene setting in... :-)
ouch!
prevailing even over tiny obstacles can be victories.
Nice one!
yikes! i had to wince at this one!
I love the jovial tone talking about what can sometimes be painful. Once again, the music of your work is a joy.
i like thinking of a splinter as a tresspasser
:-]
ah splinters
like forgotten facts
so important
until they're located
and discarded
good luck with this one
it made for a good poem
(so what's a little pain) :)
Bleeding-heart fingers describes something in three words (one of which is hyphenated) that would have taken someone with lesser skills perhaps pages. Astonishing compresion and accuracy, Pat! Very enjoyable!
Ha Ha Ha ... Oh you are funny.
Love it :o)
Don't you just hate splinter groups? Good one, Pat.
I can't stand the sight of blood!! This one's realistic for sure since you had me cringing:-)
I like how you take the most mundane things and make such great poems...once again I was smiling at your words.
Excellent poetry! Glad you visited my blog and I came by yours. :)
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