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Sonya S Poem
The imposing green dumpster stands
Like a Grecian altar, in what
Was supposed to be a driveway
One car beside it and a horde
Of cats walking around.
Every now and again someone
Approaches , not to deposit but
Find his next treasure.
Flocks of old people draw near,
They roam the outskirts of the
Green monster, for something
That’s been tossed… maybe they’ll
Find a new use for it…
A dike sheltering them
From the judging eye of the street.
Copyright © Sonya S | Year Posted 2005
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Details |
Sonya S Poem
I’m writing pain, with lead on paper
The words come out with no regrets.
I’m piercing skin with ink of amber
So none will see the scars.
The lines I follow, hand on shoulder,
To understand the cravings of my thought.
I draw a man,
A woman on my body.
The shape I’m breaking, thoughts and movement,
And patch them up again with ink.
To bleed once more, with
Pleasure. Now no one sees
The scar, that’s underneath.
Copyright © Sonya S | Year Posted 2005
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