The naked frame
Of poetry
Lies bleeding
On the floor
Theres broken bottles
Half finished drinks
The police are
At the door.
I could not live
Your life it seems
Wrapped in sellophane
And bubble wrap
The anger and passion
In my soul
Rolled firmly
Much too tight.
In littered remnants
Of a day in shame
Bloodied knuckles
Who is to blame ?
In principle I was right
A prison cell my home that night.
-
Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: August 15th, 2025 01:00
- Comment from author about the poem: Sometimes it is neccessary to defend your honour , and wrongly accused of being the aggressor because you prevailed
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 28
- Users favorite of this poem: arqios, Damaso
Offline)
Comments3
Assumptions are what we all do but are the basis of misunderstandings and wrong judgements a poignant write.
thanking you
You are most welcome
So true. A Fave 🕊️🙏🏻
very kind, thanks, appreciated
much deserved
Hello, Norman,
Sometimes it must come to fisticuffs, especially so, when defending your honour. A great poem to read, so, too, the title. Very well done indeed.
Kind regards,
Tony.
most kind and much appreciated, thanks
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