Featured Poem: My Words Slip

By Annette Gagliardi
Des Mones Branch

 

from my lips, down the cleft

of my chin, to hide

beneath my left breast

like shy children.

They grow thin and dissipate

into the night air.

 

They become ivy, climb

and encircle the old Oak like

a necklace.

 

My words are stained

and strained with the news

of the day: the murder, mayhem

degradation, the immoral, corrupt,

destitution.

 

I wail to no avail, cry and sigh.

My words whimper as they drift

like flightless birds on a sightless

journey.

 

They fall as rain

-ing leaves in autumn,

run down the days

in ways beyond

my comprehension.

6 comments

  1. Nancy Benson says:

    “Like flightless birds / on a sightless journey”
    Beautiful, lovely images with a real sad heartfelt message of the news.

  2. Claire Massey says:

    Very effective metaphors in this poem. Sometimes we despair, feeling that our words have no power. But the right words are indeed powerful, and when we express what is in our hearts, others do indeed take notice.

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