Poem Hunter
MT (28/10/70 / Staffordshire, England)


Slugs and snails and puppy dogs tails
Vanilla smiles and strawberry pails
Lots of faces laughing at me
Is it malice, in their eyes I see?

Feeling like a lamb to the slaughter
I climb the steps to the alter.
Of life where I am judged
By those who don't know me

Stirring, twirling, the cauldron claims
All my youth, my heart, my veins
On a stage where the audience hides
Cruelly taunting with vicious jibes

Feeling immeasurably lost and stupid
What more could I expect from myself
The tendrils of smoke rise from the pot
And engulf me until I melt

But my saving potion will surely be
Rising, thundering, right out of me!
For I may be silly and naive, but never ever
A crumbling child on their knees

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 2 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

Well the strength and indomitable spirit of you shines in this piece, Em crumble, absolutely never.....This is fascinating sweetie. marci.xo
An intriguing piece Michelle.
Dignity, strength and poetry, you should be triumphant! love from David