Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Fearing the chronic angers of that house, pushing every feeling out The stool, standing tall, under my feat, the seat Holding me high, eye to eye, with my Father’s My bed, safety lately, where I’d rather be, alone/ The rocking chair creaks as Plantain chips crackle and wreak in an oil sheet. Table cover creased, arrangements around The feast. The yelling begins and will not cease. And small hands folded in lap, while Tears leak out both eyes, slowly on the right and left cheek, left to weep. Wanting so much to move, and rain outside fell too.
0
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
Darkened Corners
Fearing the chronic angers of that house, pushing every feeling out The stool, standing tall, under my feat, the seat Holding me high, eye to eye, with my Father’s My bed, safety lately, where I’d rather be, alone/ The rocking chair creaks as Plantain chips crackle and wreak in an oil sheet. Table cover creased, arrangements around The feast. The yelling begins and will not cease. And small hands folded in lap, while Tears leak out both eyes, slowly on the right and left cheek, left to weep. Wanting so much to move, and rain outside fell too.
Written by
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem