2. My daughter's feet
My inner monologue is a beat poem /
my daughters feet stamp love around the window pane /
I throw these memories like motion / like stones across street lamps
Blown bottles / touch cheeks / her kiss on my eyelids
Sometimes I think I died at school /
My memories remain in the grey concrete blocks of emotion
Whilst I continue as a ghost of what I may have become /
The End
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A new collection of poetry I am writing with the sole purpose of being read at poetry readings, I may or may not self-publish this, I haven't yet decided.1 Scene & not heard
2 My daughter's feet
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading a chapter in the poem
Umbra Hours. This chapter
was posted on Sep 21, 2011 by
PaulMacklin.
This is a solo poem.
About this poem
"A new collection of poetry I am writing with the sole purpose of being read at p..."
This poem is filed under:
Spoken Word
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