a dirty little face and grubby clothes
her castle is made of bricks
in a forest of beautiful red
with bars and wire
that bloom majestically
in cement and tar
not far in the charms of her realm
graffitti covers the walls with art
the train tracks are hers to hop
there are accidents to see over the rail
and her lovely vacant lot with chicory
there are firetrucks and sirens
stones and broken glass of many colors
the treasures of her realm
children crying, laughing too
she and her minions pick dandelions
they giggle and tie them together for a crown
the dirty little ghetto queen never wears a frown
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Author:
diamonddagger (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 1st, 2013 21:43
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
Offline)
Comments2
you project such wonderfully vivid images in this poem. love this one. a typo in the 3rd line from the end and in the second line from the end need fixed. once fixed the poem will read beautifully.
only to feel such freedom again
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