SOL#15
I never write poetry and am not much of a poet but in the spirit of trying. . . her is my slice from today. From those poets out there I'd love some very HONEST feedback.
The worry gets held inside
like a cake of yarn. Rolled up neatly
freshly off the ball winder
but some days it unwinds.
My love rode ahead. Out of my
sight.
The cake unraveled
just a bit. My mind twisted the handle
rolled it back together, neatly.
The conversation lulled and
the unraveling began
again.
Consciously rolling it back up.
The adults are with her.
With each step and bend
more unraveling.
Will they send a kid back to tell
me?
Will they race to get
me
so that
I
can comfort and quell the pain?
Surely. Wind it back neatly.
Each piece tucked next to the rest.
There they are. Under the overhanging tree.
Playing. I don't see her.
Surely she isn't too close to the river.
Where is she?
Tucked up next to. . .
A daredevil you say?
Tears -- baby why? You fell
from there? From up above?
C'mere baby. It's OK
Sore.
Not broken.
You caught her head. Thank God. Thank you.
Mama needs to quit using the ball winder
her hands will do.
Funny, I just wrote a poem slice, too - and I really can't claim any knowledge about poetry! I was just trying something a little different. I really enjoyed your poem. I think yarn winding and unwinding makes a great metaphor for worry. I particularly like the way you phrased this:
ReplyDeleteThe conversation lulled and
the unraveling began
again.
It is in the silence that worry hits me. Nicely done! Thanks for sharing!!
Thank you. I need to do this more often but maybe a better starting point is to read more poetry! I am going to go find your poem.
DeleteYour metaphor is rolled throughout your piece. Very unique. I like how you varied your phrasing and intensified the point by writing one word on each line in the middle.
ReplyDeleteI was trying to play with how someone might read my words and which words I want the reader to stop and chew on a bit.
Delete