Monday, 12 August 2013

Path

The baby in the pram
Has concrete eyes
She stares ahead
Dead against
Her dirty face
Knowing
What is ahead
Like the old woman
Who wipes her rheumatic hands
As if to wash
Away the words
What is
What is not
They offer me lemonade
Whilst I am shopping
For soap
I smile
The circle illuminated
Stark as yellow
Piss
Powder
Dust
Pay attention
A solution of lye and water
Well. You know.
Like we all know
Our paths
Scattered
Like bread crumbs
Collected in misery
Round and round
The Ginger Bread House
Lost
But not desperate enough to enter
Not yet
Although I would happily
Lie in the furnace
To stop my head from pounding
To keep down the vomit of reality
I am not allowed to spew
If I show myself they will strike me
Down
Down
Down
She whistles and pretends not to hear me
I don’t shout the real words
The words that matter
I won’t waste them
They are set in concrete
Like baby eyes
And worn hands
Hitched up and ready to run in my worn out trousers
Ready
Ready
Ready

I paid attention
To the wet kiss
But it left me empty
Sat in the pram
Rubbing my hands
Wishing
Wishing
Wishing
For the greatest moment of my life.





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12 comments:

  1. Old Egg12 August 2013 at 04:03

    Life as a baby, death as an old woman, what a gamut of emotions you cover here. Where has life gone that has been stolen? Even a fragment retrieved and held on to is a triumph Jae.

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    Replies
    1. Jae Rose13 August 2013 at 05:50

      I wish it were..something to work on i guess..something real and outside all the hospital crap..thank you OldEgg..

      Delete
  2. annell412 August 2013 at 05:01

    hummmm....as with all of your work, something different here? Always brlliant!

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    Replies
    1. Jae Rose13 August 2013 at 05:51

      Thanks Annell..the delayed way of writing/accessing internet is changing things..not sure for the better..we need Alice back!

      Delete
  3. Ann (bunnygirl)12 August 2013 at 13:59

    I see so much frustration and emptiness here, but I see acceptance, too. It's an acceptance that the only way to win is to quit tilting at the windmills...for now, at least.

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    Replies
    1. Jae Rose13 August 2013 at 05:53

      Thank you Ann..yes..always smile and wave..but when the door is finally open never look back..

      Delete
  4. Anonymous13 August 2013 at 08:40

    such close attention to detail - the old ladies hands. Concentrating on the little to get through the big? Worn and ready to run. Run Jae run x

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    Replies
    1. Jae Rose15 August 2013 at 02:33

      Thank you Dandelion Girl..very insightful..i can never see the bigger oictures! ;)

      Delete
  5. Anonymous15 August 2013 at 12:38

    interesting poetry form that takes you along with fine edges and curves a smile a sigh.. an alice like adventure perhaps who ate an eat me cookie and found herself too big too small... loved it...

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    Replies
    1. Jae Rose17 August 2013 at 02:33

      Perfectly put Ms Pie..wish I could sum it up so smoothly..thank sweetly.. :)

      Delete
  6. Laurie Kolp16 August 2013 at 10:25

    So vivid... love the ending.

    ReplyDelete

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