|
Meek Maxim
by Anita MacLocked up in your head;
wrapped up in
humor/family/drawings...
Who wouldn’t wonder
if there’s room?
Constant loss for words,
contagious.
A simple phrase
slips back between
teeth, catching
on the very
breath intended for
It.
Always struggling to express ourselves,
who wouldn’t wonder
if there’s even room
for words?
05/26/2013 Posted on 05/27/2013
Copyright © 2024 Anita Mac
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by John Harder on 05/28/13 at 02:33 PM Second to last stanza stands out for me. An interesting take on unspoken words. Nicely done. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 05/28/13 at 10:02 PM If ever I needed a sobering thought (which unfortunately I rarely do), it would be this--the eviction of words. You do justice to conflict Ms Mac, finding the right words for the lack of them...
[i seem to be going spiral] |
|
