Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Zingers

Like musical notes on a staff
Sit birds in an orderly manner
While below their tiny feet
Whiz voltage of uncounted measure

Calmly I type out my prose
While power is soaring nearby
Plastic protecting small hands
From shocking me to a quick fry

Inside my brain spin strange thoughts
Dangerous if not packaged well
Keep my mouth shut, all to myself
Don't tell them all go to hell

Once all the power is loosed
Once the words pour from me sharp
Sparks fly so high and burn hot
Hurt zings straight to their soft heart




13 comments:

  1. Great writing!  I love the part about your mind.  The thoughts... I struggle to take all thoughts captive.  My mind can be my worst enemy at times.  Beautiful!

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  2. A fresh rendering of the age -old challenge of thoughts that have minds of their own...

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  3. That's a zinger alright!

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  4. thoughts become words become wounds...and we wonder why we ever let them in in the first place...the tongue is a powerful weapon...

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  5. words are so powerful..i have learned the hard way to be really careful with what i say..

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  6. This is good food for thought!

    I especially like-

    "Sit birds in an orderly manner

    While below their tiny feet

    Whiz voltage of uncounted measure"

     

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  7. Words can cause great pain and damage... you put it in poetry so well.

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  8. Very good writing. Funny parts with some very deep truths about words.

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  9. This is great! ☺

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  10. Amen, girl.  I know several times when I have wanted to take back those ice cold words.

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  11. friend, such great rhythm in this one... and power in your words. i love the parallel. well done.

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  12. I like the first stanza and then the transition to the power tongue. A challenging reminder. 

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