Cracked Houses

by Maple Tree   May 18, 2017


Paint chips fall gracefully
like a freshly, fallen snow,
winter becomes repetition
for angels with naked spines.

Flying is but a dreamers demise
as the lightbulb flickers
on and off, minds wonder
while pipes scream in sorrow.

Windows nailed shut, permanent
handprints become reminders
of the shadows that live there,
empty stomachs become hollow
shells.

Plucking shingles
one by one, I can't free them;
fingers become bloody,
they will never know I tried
because to them, I'm the enemy.

10


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments

  • 3 months ago

    by Nicko

    Judging comment

    I’m sometimes hesitant to put pen to thoughts when interpreting another poets work, but through your strong visual imagery I see your social conscience shining through, and your desire to help those less fortunate only to be rejected. A strong well written poem from beginning to “I’m the enemy” which is a great way to end and for me defines the poem. well done!

  • 5 months ago

    by Michael

    Hi Andrea

    Congrats on a great poem

    Michael :)

  • 5 months ago

    by ddavidd

    There are good poetry and there are sometimes master pieces like this. I do not totally grasp the meaning of this piece but I am bewildered from the sense of awe and the beauty of emotion, in this piece of art.

  • 5 months ago

    by Phil

    Wowzer

  • 5 months ago

    by Pagan Paul

    This is a very powerful piece of poetry Lady Maple.
    Your frustration and pain scream from the words.
    Added to favourites :) Excellent poem.
    PPx

People Who Liked This Also Liked