Hello!
From Randomlists
I have written another rather dark poem, sorry if you hopped on for a few pick-me-up verses, or anything… 😉 I think it is the tiredness I am experiencing that is turning my creative brain to the darkside? Hubby and I are a bit disorientated with all the strange sleep patterns of late.
I continue to be impressed with Eldest’s progress, he seems to be determined to get back to normal as quickly as possible. He even tried to run from the livingroom to the diningroom this afternoon, but was a little taken aback when his leg buckled on him and he nearly fell over. I had to point out (yet again) that he has to give his body a bit of time to get back to full health! It’s hard cautioning a boy who is usually so energetic to take things slowly now he can get off the couch…his strong will is just not very accommodating of such viewpoints 😛
I feel sorry for the woman in tonight’s poem, I hope she finds some peace soon:
Soggy Bead Notebook Wide Bang Pig Shaggy Land Interesting
As I came up, soggy, from the bath water;
Watched a silver bead run down my arm,
And then another, and another –
I thought about my notebook,
And how I really should take
The waterproof pad down off the wall.
But the expanse of tile
From my angle
Seemed too wide.
I’d given my head a bang
On the way down, yesterday.
And a blue bruise blossomed
Upon my left breast;
Where the knuckles of that
PIG
Could clearly be seen.
I remembered that my legs were
Shaggy, like Neanderthal genes surfacing,
So I used the new razor on them, to test it out.
Perfect lines, cut through the fuzz.
I wondered if it would work as well
When it landed on my wrist?
The blood bloom was interesting.
Notebook scribbles
I did not realise until I was about to type the poem up that I used ‘landed’ instead of ‘land’ (as I said, I’m tired…) so I apologise for that. The rewrite I thought of was:
Should it land upon my wrist?
But then that would change the clear intention to a ‘maybe’, and I think the speaker had bought new razors with a definite purpose, as spelled out in the last line.
Who do you think the ‘pig’ is? I was thinking that if he was a lover (or even a client) she would have shaved her legs for him? I get the impression it is a ‘him’.
What else has happened to make her feel the way she does? Who would she be leaving a note for? Does she live alone?
Answers in the comments, please…
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