Patricia Cresswell Poet Free verse

Little Voice

little voice

there no great deeds 
following the name
black as crows
or white s angels wings
no trials of faith or love

there is a piece of life
short or long 
she does not know
through which she must travel
until the end

a tortoise with shell
a cell of fear
dreams abandoned
as too painful with promises
that will not come true

dreams are words 
scratched on brown paper bags
that slip through the cracks
birds that flutter unfledged
to the street below

washed by rain
into the gutters

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John Fleming October 22, 2017 at 4:09 PM I have read through this little poem several times; I am struggling to make sense of it all...albeit very dark and oppressive. A strange and, obviously, rather disturbing write, Patricia -- it certainly commands ones attention! My best regards. :) john Patricia Cresswell October 23, 2017 at 7:05 PM Z's in front of thank you a typo. Patricia Cresswell October 23, 2017 at 7:03 PM It was written during a particularly bleak time in my life. A time I was invisible to people in my life. ZZThank you for giving it your attention.