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The Weed
Contributed by
starkindler
on
Tuesday, 20th May 2003 @ 07:35:00 AM in AEST
Topic:
Lifepoems
|
Hot, red brick; and
Between the cracks,
Weed is battered by heat.
Withering, dry weed;
Helpless before the cruel,
Merciless sun.
The sweat and dirt smell of death;
The death of the weed, powerless
As the shadow that is
Directly under the table.
It has nothing and is nothing;
Waiting to be plucked
From between the hot, red bricks.
There is nothing I can do to change
The direction my life is taking.
The weed and I, like criminals left to the mercy
Of the sun; of the rain, that
Has yet to come from under the clouds.
The weed is miserable and ugly,
A slithering worm. Reminder
Of this heat, of this cruelty that
Is destined to face me
Day after day.
Copyright ©
starkindler
... [
2003-05-20 07:35:00]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: The Weed
(User Rating: 1 )
by S_K_Williamson on
Tuesday, 20th May 2003 @ 06:32:19 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
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I would think you got a good grade for this piece of work.......maybe I need to take a closer look at my "weeds". I really liked this .
Great write,
Sharon;) |
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