beaten down
beaten up
turned
inside out
outside in
every which way but right
standing on the corner
no where to run;
boxed in
left out
no way but up
cannot get there from here
been down so long
looks like up to me
sliced, diced vegematic,
flogged, slogged
standing in a cruddy hole
six feet deep, looking up
january sun lies
its icy blast cuts;
now draw a long, deep breath
a million deep breaths
chamomile tea, hot bath
back under the covers,
wake me in Spring.
by
Kathryn Flynn
Member since:
January 15, 2006 winter and its discontents..
February 03, 2010 12:44 PM UTC
views: 0
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18 people recommend this
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comments: 43
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winter
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Comments: 43
Mar~
Really though I can relate to this !
every night lasts a little less
hang in girl
spring will come soon
Yours has got the energy levels shooting back the other way again - this poetic combo feels like music! Your writing here is sharp, incisive, almost abrupt - as if you were impatient for it to get over.
Whether that impatience is directed at the act of writing while you are (almost certainly) tired, or at the winter which I know you detest - it doesn't matter. That impatience, that fretting, all the anticipation comes through crystal clear!
Wonderful poem, Kathsie! Thanks for sharing this. Hugs.
Your simple expressions are the sharpest to outline the subject.
Houses and blocks
(A bad spell of weather.)
(From whence doth thou quote!)
Hugs and blessings - S.
Very good poem though, the anxiety you described from your frustration with winter was very passionate and intense!