Wednesday, February 16, 2011

TRAPPED

a broad feathered wing
the rain shattering through the air
the call of the earth.
and our blood flows through.

now. become. before the autumn turns to green.
against certainty, upon our first breath.
it is unnatural...this.
and then...

a greater unknowingness, a cold steel.
no room for detours.
the hands are moving
there is a beat
there is a thought
a rock
a hard place
and then...

2 comments:

  1. I like it that you do not just come right and say what the subject of this poem is. You make the reader look at the title and use their own inferences to figure it out.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks! I like for my writing to be as personal to the reader as possible, so I try and provide enough detail to strike an understanding, but not to make it unrelatable. It's much easier to do with my poetry, than with my children's fiction, but it's always a technique that I like to use.

    ReplyDelete