I've been writing poetry for several decades now. I also tend to edit (and re-re-edit) them. Here are a few of my better organized thoughts.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

The Sounds of Breaking

It wasn't the child's fault.  No, it was the mother

hurrying to the car with arms too full

who let the glass vase  fall on the concrete curb.


But it was the child who shrieked and kept on sobbing

even when she held him close and said it didn't matter.

How defenseless are the young against disaster

                        and oh! the sounds of breaking,

                        the crash                                                    the clatter

                                               

                        then

silence              that terrifies the heart.

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