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Tangled around a child
by Sam Roberts
Down the dens, my refuge as a child
Wool would replace the trees and tangle with the air
Childhood was ecstasy, my blanket burrow
Thorns would be tackled with sticks
And while I looked out at this rut I was stuck in
Innocent in society, sucking sweets
I realized
I was hiding, sheathing my face, missiles couldnt hurt me
I could survive anything in this hole I called the dens.
And even now, I return to my burrow, my bedroom
Spending most of my days protecting myself from the chains
Hanging outside of it
11/11/2003 Posted on 11/11/2003
Copyright © 2024 Sam Roberts
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/11/03 at 10:11 PM A poem of withdrawal, expressing great insecurity and fear. Going back to the solace of childhood is sometimes warranted I think! But on a daily basis calls for mental health intervention. (I hope this is not really true in your case. That you are writing "poetically". (I guess this is particularly relevant to me since I am dealing with someone with mental illness right now who does not want to be helped and needs it desparately.) |
| Posted by Robert Cameron Hazelton on 11/12/03 at 01:34 AM My place was a honeysuckle bush in front of my house. Many days I wish I could crawl back in there and forget. Very good! |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 12/12/03 at 12:50 PM Remarkable reflection of how some children seek comfort/serenity in the isolation of their bedroom. |
| Posted by Tom Goss on 08/19/04 at 07:20 PM I like the strong ending. |
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