About my brother, when he joined "the pack" that ran the streets, becoming more and more detached from home, starting when he was 11, just a child. Black roses were gathered when a friend of his shot himself playing with a gun at 19-years-old.


A Pack of Children

Steel plumes poison dawn.
Skulking along fissured streets,
Howling like wolves, lost.

Cruel efficacy;
Knife lambent in olive eyes
Mirrors flashing fangs.

Misplaced homes stand dead
Like hollowed trees losing leaves;
Souls echo inside.

A pack of children,
Cigarettes kindled by rage,
Clutching black roses.




Poetry by Soup in the Sand
Read 900 times
Written on 2011-11-10 at 00:43

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
An exultant poem , well exprest , good use of expressive words. Captures incapacitates so much with in your telling.
Ken D Williams
2011-12-03


Rob Graber
Powerful imagery! I am struck especially by stanza three--dead-end children as leaves blown from hollow trees. Outstanding.
2011-11-10



A haunting write, my friend.
There is considerable poignancy and some very powerful imagery here. The Haiku form works very well, enhanced by your usage of punctuation and, as always, expert vocabulary. And the story recalls my own memories of a street gang and a sad death, though I was fortunate not to have been personally involved in this.
Gentle applause for you...
2011-11-10