Untitled
In turmoil,
tremors ripple below the surface.
Shuddering,
jolting through an unfurnished heart.
Cracks appear,
figments and thoughts creep out,
slick and vindictive.
Fixtures and fittings strewn,
mania sets in,
flagrant and blind yet sincere.
Stumbling onward,
torpid, into the gulf.
Andy N
Fri 29th Jul 2011 08:18
lot of layers in this, Kath.. like particularly the use of torpid on the last line..
Great stuff.. Keep em flowing (Hope you are okay - I'm running round a bit at the moment but have a new poem or two to post here soon-ish x)