deepundergroundpoetry.com
Sister, I'm a Poet
Tenderly, you cradled me through
every skin-storm and hurricane
No school-bell bully
ever laid their finger on me
I watched your children weep
swept their tears into paper-cups
When we held Dad’s hand for the final time
dementia ‘s shotgun held the final bullets
bang! bang! we were all dead ,
blood on our slippers was merely truths
every skin-storm and hurricane
No school-bell bully
ever laid their finger on me
I watched your children weep
swept their tears into paper-cups
When we held Dad’s hand for the final time
dementia ‘s shotgun held the final bullets
bang! bang! we were all dead ,
blood on our slippers was merely truths
Published 2nd Apr 2025
Author's Note
Our middle sister is absolute nuts, but we all love her, obviously. She is coming to stay with me and I can't fucking wait. The plots and plans we scheme. Fuck them Jane, just fuck them.
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
2nd Apr 2025 6:25pm
family is everything... even though they are nuts sometimes... well most of the times..
2nd Apr 2025 11:42pm
Rob, you're a fucking madman with the phrasing
"you cradled me through
every skin-storm and hurricane"
I love the phrase skin-storm. I may liberate that one day.
I hope you have an amazing time friend!
"you cradled me through
every skin-storm and hurricane"
I love the phrase skin-storm. I may liberate that one day.
I hope you have an amazing time friend!
