Home Alone
She forgot
like she had been doing a lot lately
She simply didn’t seem to remember
Maybe clarity was what she was lacking
Yes it was just a matter of light
not brain cells.
No..No Certainly not
But she forgot.
She forgot what the
words were doing on her kitchen counter
Gosh ! They were smelling really really bad
Did she forget to scrub them the night before
Or was it the garbage
She must investigate.
But before that she had to make herself warm
With thin watery soup straight from the oven
And then she would deal with the stink
Maybe shove those words down the chute
And in the morning
If there was enough sunlight
She would write…
But where were they?
Who hid them ?
…Those WORDS..
Chaos1214
The words always remain.~both the sacred and the profane... and their power lingers with them.
The words always remain.~both the sacred and the profane... and their power lingers with them.
seema chowdhury
lovely and deep, what comes the heart touches the heart.
lovely and deep, what comes the heart touches the heart.
Nikunj
The stink of the words by the oven , on the kitchen shelf and the essence of a fine poetry wrapping em all ....yet again a piece to fall in love with
The stink of the words by the oven , on the kitchen shelf and the essence of a fine poetry wrapping em all ....yet again a piece to fall in love with
Fay Slimm
Words have a habit of reappearing to the pen of a fine writer like you dear Sri.
Words have a habit of reappearing to the pen of a fine writer like you dear Sri.
heather wilkins
nice write. :)
nice write. :)
Andrew Blakemore
A clever, well constructed poem, well done.
A clever, well constructed poem, well done.
lovely poem.....home alone is a bad experince in fact.....but its scared to leave someone alone who cant remember to scrub its kitchen counter ......but well expressed in words .