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Puddles
by Chris Sorrenti
When only a boy
I relished charging through them
loved the feel of mud between my toes
father always yelling
“Stay out of the puddles!”
with age I lost the carefree ones
Years later
in the hospital for heads
the doctors warned
Guilt, Blame and Anger
are streets without sewers
the only solace: we are all convicts
locked inside the cells of our bodies
protozoa swimming in a gigantic puddle
After decades of puddles
some almost drowning me
my soul is mired, its boots worn thin
I zig zag often but can't run like I used to
too often they catch me
travelling Anxiety’s sidewalk
panic spattered days and dreams
© 1994
920 hits as of January 2024
03/14/2014 Posted on 03/14/2014
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 03/17/14 at 08:36 AM Love this Chris. Your words go crying after themselves, leaving the dream upended in a puddle you missed somewhere, sometime. Ecellent.
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| Posted by Laura Doom on 03/18/14 at 10:56 AM Small fish/big pond--an apposite inferred analogy to mental health treatment, & another 'upended' splash of childhood imagery. Strangely perhaps, I associated 'zig-zag' with cycling (driving through puddles, zig-zagging up relentless climbs) which is not unlike your scenario here...
Good time management skills in poetic compression. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 03/24/14 at 02:05 PM fantastic poem, Chris. ever since I was a kid, I have always held puddles in high esteem. only wish there were more of such things just laying around, in which an old man like myself can reflect and see himself young again. |
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