Inside the cutlury drawer

Murmuring amongst the stainless steel, and

Stuffed in the pocket of the Winter coat

Among the scrunched tissues 

Sweet wrappers

And scribbled notes to self


Is a little voice

Which is growing in that awful confidence

Its once bony fingers

If indeed a voice can have fingers

But if they could 

Are now encased in fat

Such Stubby toddler digits 

Egocentric in their way


Reaching for the strangle of "ENOUGH"


Lets hear it for me






Oh I know what youre saying

Reading through this

Raising your eyes

If you have even got this far

Well done if you have


Im saying the same to myself

In a metaphor for life

Pat on the back

Arent I fabulous

Kind of way 


Just after the tongue goes to cheek

The "have a word with yourself"

Catch yourself on

Wins again


This time, at least 

Poetry by LFD3
Read 154 times
Written on 2016-10-24 at 18:55

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Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
Sometimes, I wonder just who lives inside my head and how did they get there!
It's in these types of puzzling sort of scripted poems that I've written as well, I get the un-gettable. If that makes any sense. Aw well, even if it doesn't, it makes sense to me and those others who dwell in the caverns and dark-shadows whispers echoing through my mind.

Well done in the portrayal. I appreciate the pockets and the cutlery drawer images!