Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
* She has tender dirt upon her fortitude,* * I wonder if she's forgiven herself yet...* Push your grief, shopping-cart lady carry your health in head-lights island of hide and highways, I loud-speak in a single look you're someone's mother, sister, child a sorrow-go-round ride in blankets that have not seen Gain or Tide push your millions pop cans, wine bottles, tin / glass monies carry that dynamic dust each piece a street each spot someone's ungiving grunt each step in a nowhere hunt... * She has museums in her silence * * I wonder if her love has hues of contradictions...* Push on, you ribald mule! carry on in your refugee stink, sandpaper sandals and scarlet scars scabs that slow speak each winter and Valentine, to think you're someone's mother, sister, child sorrow-goes-round village-wild your stubborn pride far from mild Float on, shopping-cart lady stay in each hair-pin hour in this bankrupt ballet is this a way to live...? Your hunched shadow has no voice, no answers to give... She has blossoms and duty in her hands, I wonder if fate partners her dance... pushing that cart, this life by chance * she's someone's mother, sister, child a woman who's homeless no choice for the wild. *
0
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 2:26 AM UTC
SHOPPING CART LADY
* She has tender dirt upon her fortitude,* * I wonder if she's forgiven herself yet...* Push your grief, shopping-cart lady carry your health in head-lights island of hide and highways, I loud-speak in a single look you're someone's mother, sister, child a sorrow-go-round ride in blankets that have not seen Gain or Tide push your millions pop cans, wine bottles, tin / glass monies carry that dynamic dust each piece a street each spot someone's ungiving grunt each step in a nowhere hunt... * She has museums in her silence * * I wonder if her love has hues of contradictions...* Push on, you ribald mule! carry on in your refugee stink, sandpaper sandals and scarlet scars scabs that slow speak each winter and Valentine, to think you're someone's mother, sister, child sorrow-goes-round village-wild your stubborn pride far from mild Float on, shopping-cart lady stay in each hair-pin hour in this bankrupt ballet is this a way to live...? Your hunched shadow has no voice, no answers to give... She has blossoms and duty in her hands, I wonder if fate partners her dance... pushing that cart, this life by chance * she's someone's mother, sister, child a woman who's homeless no choice for the wild. *
butch-decatoria
Written by
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 2:26 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem