sweet ariel,
what of the rest of us?
my father hasn’t yet died
nor my mother
nor my son
I’ve still a roof overhead, for now
I’ve been subjected
to no particular abuse
worthy–
yet, I’m weary of the beatings
like everyone
but we haven’t much to complain of
when you get right down to it
what of the rest of us?
the ones who are fine, really
but who are– not well
what shall we write
our poems about?
[soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/242423052″ params=”color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false” width=”100%” height=”166″ iframe=”true” /]
write about the pretty things the rest of us are too sad to write about. sometimes we need someone to remind us of the nice things.
I’ve done a bit of that as well, tho not lately. Perhaps it’s time. Thank you. I hope your day is beautiful 🙂
This was does especially well (better) hearing read vs reading it.
Thank you. I’ll be doing more like that, here and there. Punctuation and line breaks can’t possible capture what was intended, the poem heard echoing in my hollow head.
Yes, I read it first, and put the emphasis and breaks not where they were intended to be.