Lie across the ground.
Hide the truth of the
unkempt, uncombed
lawn.
Muffle the sounds
of the neighbours' fight.
Soften the sound of
tears from a child, making
snowmen, rebuilding her
shattered world from white.
Reflect silver from the moon
into windows and red rooms
where the future is
crushed. The tune of Christmas
is the gun-like cracking of broken globes.
Be a blank page
for a family of three who
will lend a new verse to the season.
The last few lines of an ongoing story:
a flurry of fury.
The White Stuff (For Maisie)
-
ladyteazle
- Posts: 48
- Joined: Sun Mar 02, 2008 4:15 pm
- Location: Birmingham
"The feel of not to feel it." - Keats
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ray miller
- Perspicacious Poster
- Posts: 7482
- Joined: Wed Apr 23, 2008 10:23 am
Very, very good."the gun-like cracking of golden globes" is excellent. So's the verse beginning "Soften the sound...." Pity that you're repeating "sound". Didn't think the last few lines were as good as the rest.
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
I thought this was great well done.AC
Soften the sound of.............................soften the sobs and tears....mabe
tears from a child, making
snowmen, rebuilding her
shattered world from white.
Soften the sound of.............................soften the sobs and tears....mabe
tears from a child, making
snowmen, rebuilding her
shattered world from white.
It always happens when you least expect it. AC
Great write, Ladyteazle. I myself might have stopped right after "season", but then it'd be your call. No nits from me. Enjoyed the read.