the child

In a museum
lies an ice cube

Inside the ice cube
lies a tiny child

On the child
only one arm grew out

On the arm
a perfect little hand

In the hand
the child clutches something lost

Maybe it was lost
to fit the child
into the ice cube

All rights reserved, Lourdes Segovia Castle

Poetry by Lourdes
Read 598 times
Written on 2006-07-01 at 13:13

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very odd and therefore, arresting and provocative.

English War Veteran aged 98
Wow very provocative and thought provoking indeed! You wouldn't know if that hand had my TV remote control would you? - as I can't find it - oh well my home help and meals on wheels will be here soon - I can ask them! I hope it's not soup and mushy peas again! Regards

a very intelligent and different poem ...what are we here for ...what does the puzzle look like ...what part of us are we allowed to keep only for ourselves ...An excellent excellent poem from you! With love Pia

"Maybe it was lost
to fit the child
into the ice cube"
Aren't we all fitted to the same mould by societal norms? And someone different is a curio?

Entering one of your texts is always, aleays, like embarking for an adventure in thought...

Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
Who, how, and what we are is all made for a purpose. Each of us with all our quirks, sores, mutations has a purpose. In saying that, I ask are we the maker of our circumstances or do our circumstances make us. What lies in that most special part of us may be the answer to our personal problems and the problems of the whole whole. We as a scoiety need to accept our differences and work with them to unleash the promises that are clutched in that perfect hand inside that frozen ice cube. Love will melt the ice and the hand and will release the cure. I love this Lourdes. It has me thinking about things beyond myself and that is a good kathy

Zoya Zaidi
Hair raising!
Love, xxx, Zoya

Hi there lourdes

As the lady says this is thuoght provoking and sad well done on creating that subtle sadness a poem to revisit rgds mike


daughters of cinder_daughters of powder
by Lourdes