A String of Cliches

The stillness of the sound
It’s feeding like a drip
Oh life’s a funny old thing.

Planes drone overhead
Seas lap dirty shores
It’s just a string of clichés.

My hands are bored
My heart’s overgrown
It doesn’t know where to go.

I’ve got a fissure inside
It gets deeper every time
Whenever I try to move.

Upwards and outwards
I’m scrambling upwards
And outwards…

Now…

And the crack is growing
It’s growing in

To me

Oh how do you stop
What’s already started?

How to stop a freight train?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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Brown Avatar
August 3, 2011 at 2:37 PM
Congratulations on your poetry making it through round one in the PoetrySoup International Poetry contest Nicola. I wish you the best in the final round. Love, Carol
Brown Avatar
June 23, 2011 at 7:20 AM
Congratulations on your well deserved poetry being featured this week Nicola. Love, Carol
Guy Avatar
June 21, 2011 at 3:50 PM
Nicola, to answer your question...you write it down. an enjoyable fissure to fall into! ;-)
Nair Avatar
June 19, 2011 at 11:20 PM
enjoyed this piece with a touch of intrigue.
Vh Avatar
June 19, 2011 at 4:16 PM
Very lovely!
Sweetheart Avatar
June 19, 2011 at 2:48 PM
Congrats Nicola on your featured poem this week on PS.. a wonderful write to share with us all luv..
Bdosa Avatar
March 14, 2011 at 2:22 PM
I like your work. Remember, cliche sells everything and always has and always will. That is because people love cliche and the familiar. I use cliche a lot because I know that. I have a true story about a runaway derailing freight train coming to a hault within inches of my nose, everybody in the depot ran out the back door. I just watched the train derail and almost destroy the depot along with myself inside it. True story. Everyone said I had nerves of steel. LOL Vee Bdosa
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