deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Burden
A heavy horse to swing my legs,
haul my slumped cargo in its cart,
parked by garden chairs.
Offer me cake to help me mend
cut off the crusts for afternoon tea,
I'll tremble crumbs for sparrows
while you flap wrapping blankets.
I want to stay,
cold is a differential
measured between hands
that will pull me back in
before the light condenses
and our sighs become visible
again.
Your story is quickly told,
standing silent in the field
a vignette in my arid soil.
I stole your best pages.
Spit polish your shoes
switch on the sign,
slip loose from the yoke.
I will wilt quietly tonight
ready to take your morning guilt
and another flower from your dress
haul my slumped cargo in its cart,
parked by garden chairs.
Offer me cake to help me mend
cut off the crusts for afternoon tea,
I'll tremble crumbs for sparrows
while you flap wrapping blankets.
I want to stay,
cold is a differential
measured between hands
that will pull me back in
before the light condenses
and our sighs become visible
again.
Your story is quickly told,
standing silent in the field
a vignette in my arid soil.
I stole your best pages.
Spit polish your shoes
switch on the sign,
slip loose from the yoke.
I will wilt quietly tonight
ready to take your morning guilt
and another flower from your dress
Published 11th Oct 2019
| Edited 5th Mar 2021
Author's Note
wheel chairs and the daughter that stayed to look after it.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2
reading list entries 0
comments 4
reads 472
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
11th Oct 2019 11:04pm
That author's note changes the dynamics of this completely. I totally misread the content. Went back and reread in a different context. So melancholy in nature ( though it was the first read about too ).
13th Oct 2019 10:09pm
I have struggled with this poem its not an easy subject to get across so its good to know the authors note helps. Many thanks
12th Oct 2019 10:06pm
I agree and did the same. From the mentions of tea and cake, being American, I thought immediately of the dystopian environment of Lewis Carroll's epic fantasy. Then I started letting the details really permeate me. Your opening stanza has a powerful metaphoric charge, that sense of heaviness, of being out of sorts, comes across adroitly. A light touch of intimacy in the second stanza. I love the description of trembling crumbs. I can see them falling from a gently bobbing hand and sawing fingers. The third stanza is gorgeous in it's unique detail, syllabic harmony and emotional vulnerability. Touching metaphor in the penultimate stanza, and very relatable. Really I want to reading list this one too. lol Closing stanza is heart rending. Terrfic work.
13th Oct 2019 10:11pm
Really appreciate the balanced feedback and its good to know whats working and coming across. I sometimes struggle to set my ideas on the page. Many thanks
