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Hanger

April 5, 2010

Photo by artă obraznică

Hang, Hang, Hang,
The indiscernible curvature
Of your pen
Slides, effortlessly
Against my wall.


The midnight madness seeps
Through
My poreless barrier
Silently
Like a shiny swiss army knife
That dances
Through
Ivory tofu.


And then
I had a hanger.


And then
I stealthily
Hung up my private laundry
Soft ribbons
Of half formed thoughts
And sighed
Slowly
And
The hanger
Broke
And
Everything
Fell
Silkily
Gracefully
To the ground.
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4 Comments leave one →
  1. April 6, 2010 12:14 AM

    You’ve been in a poetic mood lately, haven’t you, Grace? And you weren’t kidding when you said you were writing lots. Lucky us. :-)

    Also, I must commend you on the imagery here. “Ivory tofu”? “The midnight madness seeps through my poreless barrier”? Good stuff!

  2. Donald Roy Miller permalink
    April 6, 2010 4:52 PM

    Grace, thank you for sharing your gifts: Your lovely way of expressing ideas and words—in ways that could only come from a lovely heart and soul. When I visit your site, I am uplifted in every worthy way. And I am also humbled into a silencing awe, feeling that any comment of mine would be inadequite.

    Grace: Thanks Donald.

  3. April 7, 2010 1:15 AM

    I love your poetry also, Grace. Have you ever thought of publishing these in book form? These along with your photos would make a very handsome little volume.

    Grace: These kinda have been just random scribbles…but thank you so much, maybe I’ll give that some thought :)

  4. May 6, 2010 10:01 PM

    This is a wonderful poem.

    Grace: Just bookmarked yours.

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