Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Convergence


                                                                                       
The mean spirited spittle
Cannot have a conversation
With the virgin ears.
The Good Goody versus
The Queen Bee
Never the "twain" shall meet.

Rather cross viciously and collide
Two engines falling apart at the seams.

How does one take rails of iron
And bend them to converge and merge?

Rather spill salt on the wound
Turn the shoulder
And walk out of sight

Not Glancing back
As Lot's wife
To watch the body burn. 

6 comments:

  1. But the world curves - nice

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  2. Thankful for the curves jute!

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  3. I love your writing and this one is no exception. You have such creativity. What a gift!!

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  4. I felt a personal touch in the poem..Really captivating. Keep going!

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  5. Intense - yes keep 'em coming.

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  6. I love your excellent writing and beautiful blog :)
    Short Poems

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