Some strange shuffling rocks me back to
consciousness,
Quick rapid blinks force my eyes to awaken.
Colors swirl around my eyes-
registering the light, the lens widens then shrinks,
When I gaze upon a gentle warm bask of the soft light,
Creeping underneath the bedroom door.
The heavy wheels of the late night travelers roll over the small street,
just below the small second story apartment window.
Colors swirl around my eyes-
registering the light, the lens widens then shrinks,
When I gaze upon a gentle warm bask of the soft light,
Creeping underneath the bedroom door.
The heavy wheels of the late night travelers roll over the small street,
just below the small second story apartment window.
Footsteps gliding over that old matter rug
On top those light brown hardwood floors… followed by a dense thump…
usually mom says we can’t be too loud
or the people downstairs will be mad
Go then stop then go then stop
It sounds like the shuffling footsteps are dangerously traveling
In some awkward circle.
Quick shallow breaths escape from worried lungs
can’t be me, I’ve stopped filling my lungs…
they have yet to be released
Words are thrown out into the space between them.
On top those light brown hardwood floors… followed by a dense thump…
usually mom says we can’t be too loud
or the people downstairs will be mad
Go then stop then go then stop
It sounds like the shuffling footsteps are dangerously traveling
In some awkward circle.
Quick shallow breaths escape from worried lungs
can’t be me, I’ve stopped filling my lungs…
they have yet to be released
Words are thrown out into the space between them.
All the movement halts-
No staccato footsteps of the circular motions
No travelers coming or going up or down the hill
Eerie drab silence grows
Looking blacker than darkness…
No staccato footsteps of the circular motions
No travelers coming or going up or down the hill
Eerie drab silence grows
Looking blacker than darkness…
The next day I look over at the strangest sight
…My mom is wearing sunglasses in the store
My voice must take place of hers…
Hers has run away
Even though I am only 8,
The. Dots. Connect.
It hits me…
But not as hard as he hit her.
…My mom is wearing sunglasses in the store
My voice must take place of hers…
Hers has run away
Even though I am only 8,
The. Dots. Connect.
It hits me…
But not as hard as he hit her.
I really enjoyed this poem filled with much detail and imagery. I could picture everything just as you stated it. Great job
ReplyDeleteWow--such control here--with line breaks, with pace, with tone. Great work with the italicized, second voice, and the two meanings of "hit" at the end.
ReplyDeleteThis is extremely descriptive. I like how you diversified the sentences with italics, pauses, and breaks. The ending was excellent and perfectly intensified.
ReplyDelete