I'll be back writing about the Oscars. It's been a crazy past couple of days. Everyone in the house is ill with something. But it seems everyone is on the mend, thank goodness.
So, if you would not mind, I'd like to get sidetracked on something I've been pouring over the past week or so. I submitted a poem to Mipo magazine (you can get information about this over at Chyna's Nothing New link in my blog list).
After submitting it, I reworked it and it is much better. However, I'm to that point where I need to step away from it and ask advice. I have an inkling that I use to many various images. But hey, I'll let you take an axe to it. I'm all ears.
"Sitting With A Broken Friend"
Words are intangible things like clouds.
Compressed, they often come down in floods--
Sudden news is never kind.
I am thrown by its force blinded
into miniature eternities until
focus returns to these world-weary eyes.
You sit with a broken friend; you're benevolent
spoon-feeding her thoughtful, pleasant words
tiny sacraments of bread and wine and you
are at heart a Caretaker--You'll bleed
dry to nourish her hope.
I shake the words out of my books.
Scatter them around. Look for "soul."
How long has it been since I've used it?
Find it. Paste it in a book-- It is
your book with only the best of words
healers use for healing.
Even the kindest spoken words fade and
Disappear like leaves in autumn's unkind winds.
If not me, who would dare chase the wind
Recapture the spoils? Who else would
Take care, restore your spent hope?
10:10:45 PM  | |
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