cruelly, our moon-hung
ancient tree fathers a poet
sperm in frail autumn, born in
dustily springlace,
and eyes to this earth
opened to oceanid shame,
I wake
same as I was, peeling
bones and eating air.
© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
‹ lies.
Categories: Poetry
Haunting and lingering! I enjoyed it very much, Lucy :))
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Thanks, Jay! 😃
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Dang, with the word “Cruelly” at the beginning, it reminds me of on of my favorite lines:
Parent: “I gave life to you!”
Me: “I didn’t ask for this life!”
Another great one, Lucy!
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Thank you!
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Hi lucy! Really great poem! I loved it! ❤
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Thank you immensely, Carol. ❤️❤️
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Love it!
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I’m happy to hear that! Thank you for reading my piece.
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Visceral. That’s all that kept echoing in my mind as i read your lines.
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Thank you. 🙂
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Burning into my eyes,
the wor(l)ds of hurtful lives.
Always scared to see “good” byes,
scared of deadly hives.
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Wow! This is so beautiful and evocative. Thank you for sharing. 💕
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If it would only stop the mess. 💕
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Sadly, true.
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There’s a different take on the joys of bringing new life into this world.
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Oh, indeed.
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Nice poem by the way!
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Thanks!
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