Meds

I am artificial muddled by the thick wet clay and I can’t feel my heartbeat through the sculptors hands
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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Bickerstaffe Avatar
April 28, 2012 at 8:06 PM
Echoes of Sylvia Plath... and all those numbed by pharmaceuticals designed to heal but which so often disarticulate and confuse. BRAVO, Rachel! Best wishes, Keith
Andresen Avatar
March 9, 2012 at 12:15 PM
A small poem ...it say alot: lovely done. - oxox hugs Anne-Lise
Hillebrand Avatar
March 8, 2012 at 9:18 PM
mmm...I like it.
Debole Avatar
March 8, 2012 at 7:23 PM
Your poem is very powerful. Excellent title.
Bauer Avatar
March 8, 2012 at 5:43 PM
i love the imagery in this poem and also the way the title gives the clue as to what it's about. great poem!
Bunton Avatar
March 8, 2012 at 4:48 PM
Very Good!
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