Showing posts with label #729. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #729. Show all posts

Friday, September 18, 2015

The stuff we're made of


The things that make the People
Gathered by Hunger
and insatiable growls
and Justified, Need
The goods are Good
And stuff matters
The Hunter and The Gatherer
tied at the waste
Harmonize their Note
A Mantra of Meager and Impoverished
and chorus off key-then the dreams shatter
Leaving you Naked-

(This poem is a mimicry of Emily Dickinson's #729, The Props assist the House)
Image By en:User:Smm650 (en:File:General Picture.JPG) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
No comments:
Labels: , , , , , , ,
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)

Lip sticks and stones

The way my name  sits in your mouth, at least, you want it to. The 'a' hanging an ellipses on the sound waves. The rattling of conso...

  • The answer to my prayers
    A year ago this May, in fact, upon this same very grey day- something came over me I found could say, in no other way but to portray, ...
  • A Quake Among the Giants
    Natures touch is both gentle and fierce. Homo sapiens  trample on her back. The thick skin impossible to pierce. So...
  • Gilt not guilt
    Failure is all the rage these days. I have been practicing, and I understand the rage. Someone said that melancholy is tragedy handled well....