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Open Poetry #21
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bags123
Member
since 2002-06-06
Posts 128


0 posted 2002-07-23 09:23 AM




Every Sunday

Every Sunday
she enters
15 minutes early
pain braced,
scaffolded,
on her metal
walker

I hear her
before seeing
Clump,...drag...
Clump,...drag...
the sound of
aged faith,
persistance

15 years ago,
her husband died
Before that,
her son.
In some
vain glorious war,
somewhere.

She's alone now
with only
her Rosary
to hold.
Almighty God
to talk
with

© Copyright 2002 bags123 - All Rights Reserved
serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738

1 posted 2002-07-23 09:38 AM


Remarkable, bags. Delicately descriptive--fragile and yet intense. A true poetic portrait you have captured here. I could actually smell my grandma's perfume...
Goodknight
Member Elite
since 2002-06-15
Posts 2386
Ohio, USA
2 posted 2002-07-23 09:48 AM


this is a powerful poetic portrait painted in wonderful words and thoughts - I really liked this - Paul
bags123
Member
since 2002-06-06
Posts 128

3 posted 2002-07-23 09:50 AM


Thanks serenity and goodnight.
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