Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Broken pencil poetry. Green

23 may 2018

I close my eyes.
It is warm -
It is all melting like white chocolate in the sun.

I scrunch my lids together and hold my breath.
It smells like sawdust.
The big round saw starts turning,
picks up speed, whirring,
Like a loud roar, a cry out
for a huge injustice.

The tree trunks are lifted,
placed on the long table,
pushed forward
into the blade.

I open my eyes
and scream with the tree trunk being split open.
A whirr. A screech.

Dont't tell me how it ends.
Tell me how it begins.


  1. Oh dear! Deep words at the end!
    You always bring a fresh perspective to routine scenes/images.

    1. Thank you. I have been taking photos to use as prompts. This one had started with another photo but then it took a strange turn :D

    2. See, now 'Tell me how it begins' :-)
      Curious about which photo led to this ...
      I like your idea of using pics as prompts!!

    3. Sorry, Google isn't sending me notifications for comments anymore so I didn't see your question. I will definitely post something about the original photo too. It is from a bar terrace that had strings of lights over the tables. Very pretty in the evening.

    4. Looking forward to it ... seems a stretch from the image you describe and the poetry at this point :-)


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