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fenced
by Kristina Woodhillso many lines written,
spitting out nada, nada, nada;
whatta lotta yadda
jeez! this stream is slowing
drying
frying
crying
dust tears, shriveled marshmallow fears
muse hires a tumbleweed,
rolls up on the high desert plateau
sounding cool,
caught in mariah's land band;
years ago, a trip across I84
was a clear view -
sawtooth's white bite, COLD,
waiting to fill a salmon river jaw;
now
tumbleweeds pile like
sidebyside tiles,
the floor of this fenced room
is a ravine of mean, constipated
old grey kochia;
grandma, what are you doing here?
they said you'd gone on to the
great weed seed field,
limbs long ground down,
cute flower tips sexed out
and spread wide;
hell, you're stuck tight!
barbed wire
is no silk scarf wrist knot;
this bed is dead,
crushing each next generation
on both sides
of this man's fence;
cut loose from your roots
meant something way back then;
now the wall is just tall enough
to see over and scan for the guard;
i'm digging deep into
my outback pockets;
it's time to find the match
and let this sunset play with fire
I love you, too, grandma
03/10/2010 Posted on 03/11/2010
Copyright © 2025 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 03/11/10 at 05:01 PM Very clever- loved the rhyming, the word play; ESPECIALLY the last line (and stanza 9). GREAT write as alwayss. Thank you! |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 03/11/10 at 07:34 PM Serene and surreal, just a pleasure to read. But then, reality doesn’t impress me. I only believe in passion, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls. Thanks. |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 03/11/10 at 08:53 PM ...coool all the way round and up and down...yo'granny'd be proud...great expansive write, lovely line breaks and word usage...white sawtooth bite--too cool. |
| Posted by Julie Adams on 03/15/10 at 03:38 PM this piece is so directed and winding, the development of it is just intoxicating...ur imagery dances in the flow you create, even with dry tumbleweeds...a pleasure to read you again, and share in the musicality of you poetry...peace to u poet, jewels xo |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 03/15/10 at 05:48 PM I am tumbleweed blowing on your highway tickled by the grains of your poetic genius. I really like what Greg said. He captures the spirit which is yours and his - no more walls. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 03/15/10 at 11:00 PM I enjoy the way in which your lines squeal extravagance without ostentation -- for instance, the range of implied colour in raw, but muted, form, though 'white' is the only name in this crowd. Frustration is both visible and tangible, as is your proclivity for poetic creativity. |
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