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Tripping on the Tip of My Soul
by Barry FranklinI fell down into the bright bush of an early autumn in august
the breeze was frighteningly frigid
it swept me over... over each, over every, over all
as I curl up into a ball
a fetus shape, memories of the womb
lending to the darkness its warmth of the end of a beautiful day
when the sun has gone down, when the pale children play
I tripped on the tip of my soul
just as I unfurl, my arms and my legs
my intentions lay bare, as I stare
into myself I see black spots on black spots
lightning does strike twice
but wouldn't it be nice if it didn't?
I am covered in the chains of my past
weighing down my future with the links that I've added
I've padded my room, just for safety
where can these broken wings take me?
08/11/2015 Posted on 08/11/2015
Copyright © 2025 Barry Franklin
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Michael Smith on 08/18/15 at 01:25 AM I liked the rhyming and wordplay in this one, Barry. I feel like this sometimes lately. I guess events can be a catalyst for a downfall with ugly results and to cope we revert back to our most primordial self. My favorite part is how the speaker takes responsibility for their part in what has led up to their current state. I just want to grab the speaker and give them inspiration to rebuild and fly again! Thanks for sharing. |
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