Deep dead.
Door of the house no.3 is closing behind.
On the steps a yellow bird named sunshine lying
Dead.
Closes the door, the pitter patter of foot steps
Moist on the wall,
Repetition of life,
Breathing spaces are so small!
I don't live there,
Neither do you.
But, for the ol'girl it is all.
Smell of fried okra,
Tit bits of singular squabble,
Rolls out of closed window
Like a loose marble.
We played with the marbles.
We talked of a witch.
Which is not far from the truth,
Living amid loveless ness
Is living deep dead.
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Comments: 11
"pitter patter of foot steps"
Pitter patter -- is cliché, give it another thought.
Footsteps is one word.
I love 'deep dead.'
is living deep dead."
Profoundly Put ~ with an artistic step layout to the RIGHT with an entirely separate yet profound side note . . .
Dead.
Like a loose marble.
Is living deep dead.
Poetic praises to you Poddar ~ I LOVE IT!
Blessings ~
René ~ "Always Collaborating and Creating!"
P.S. Poddar ~ I like the way you have . . .
pitter patter (of) foot steps broken up to give us the sense of a stepping motion . . . _____________ ______________ ____________ ___________
You've really got it going on Poddar!