Shaunda Lindsay Poet Bio

Pillow Talk

Do you know what it smells like to die?  It smells like me 
  
If only pillows talked-what stories they could tell 
My pillow witnessed many a thing- in this life that I call hell 
  
  
My pillow is a fluffy thing 
without it-I can hardly sleep 
  
I snuggle up-my sweet dreams near 
Mind of it's own it has- I fear 
  
My pillows such a harmless thing 
Moves of it's own accord- it seems 
  
And then-my pillow talks to me 
It holds me down- I'm struggling 
  
My hot wet breath fills up my nose 
It smells like me when I explode 
  
Fireworks go off in my eyes 
then fade to black as- eye sight dies 
  
With burning lungs- I pummel death 
legs kicking hard- cloth steals my breath 
  
And with it takes my worst and best 
So ends my Ballet dance with death 
  
Oh I know how it smells to die 
It smells like me- I say goodbye 
  
Then as my pillow gathers strength 
I hear it's laughing voice I think 
  
My movements stop-deaths not so bad 
Till pillow laughing-sounds like DAD 
  
LAST THOUGHT    LAST THOUGHT          LIFE UNFAIR 
  
  
DADS DONE    RESTS IN EASY CHAIR

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Nayda Ivette Negron Flores March 26, 2016 at 7:55 PM Deep and sad Shaunda Shaunda Lindsay March 26, 2016 at 8:43 PM Thank you hun...It is sad isn't it. I can truthfully say "what didn't kill me made me stronger".

Poet Destroyer A March 25, 2016 at 6:47 AM This is a sad and devastating write, I'm talking about the dad laughing. While there is a struggle to survive. I feel like using profanity, at dads done deed....wtf ...fish it maddens ..me, anyways, this is really something. I hope you don't mind me bothering your poems this morning. Linda Shaunda Lindsay March 25, 2016 at 7:04 AM awww thank you.. It was devastating. My father was a drunk who found ingenuous ways to get around my fighting him. I think he was crazy. It happened to him as a child so I guess he figured he'd share the wealth. You can bother me anytime.

Elizabeth Alexander March 18, 2016 at 4:07 PM awesome how you portrayed the BEAST.I am ashamed I just ran, you stayed and fought , your strength of character shows in your writing sis.no one should turn a "blind eye" to abuse; wherever it happens. we three had such unworthy parents .I tried to speak to my mum on the phone tonight ;she said I should do yoga,(knows I'm arthritic), so I called her a clown, she called me a cheeky little shit-so I hung up. don't know why I even tried. Elizabeth.xxx Shaunda Lindsay March 18, 2016 at 5:11 PM No way. If I didn't have 8 brothers and sisters getting the same as me, I'd have run. And I did. I never lived at home past the age of 14. I was in Juvi and then on my own. Your mum? Well she doesn't deserve you, I do know that.

Tom Quigley March 17, 2016 at 2:31 PM Ouch. Gripping. Well written. Shaunda Lindsay March 17, 2016 at 4:27 PM Thank you for the kind words.

Kelli White March 17, 2016 at 9:51 AM This is a remarkable poem Shaunda. God bless you. Shaunda Lindsay March 17, 2016 at 10:20 AM Thank you so much hun. Really appreciate it.