Monday, September 27, 2010

Poem- History

This story has stayed with me.
My foot caught in it,
stray lines stick to the sole.

I think that some of me is in there.
Because of the setting I used,
which has real and unreal places in an amalgam.

We go through those places,
having our lives,
leaving our marks.

While being marked so that
you can leave but something remains,
back there and on you.

Like pruning scars on an apple tree,
where life took its cuts.
While your life moved on.

6 comments:

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

Like pruning scars on an apple tree,
where life took its cuts.
While your life moved on.


As long as we're not talking tar pits...
~

Smut Clyde said...

life took its cuts.

Now AK has mentioned the Foreskin Holocaust and we will never hear the end of it.

mikey said...

In the fourth grade, on the baseball diamond, Mike Varney told me:

"If you're gonna take a cut, take a cut, but don't whiff".

I think it's wisdom...

Smut Clyde said...

stray lines stick to the sole.

I hate it when that happens and I track letters into the house.

Unknown said...

Nice.

Hamish Mack said...

Thanks Merc.