Rust

Gold cherry

By queen beatle

Wed, 06 Nov 2024
  • 445 reads
5 comments
 

November: the month of rust.
At the bus stop, I find it under my nails
prise out the flakes and flick them
back to their brisk eddy.
Life smoulders;
I roll up in musty wool.
The bonfires light;
I pull tighter.

Through the closed curtain
fireworks bleed out.
In their dim swash
something surfaces:
the echo of a lidless eye
smelted from cracked glass.
A siren swims past;
I shift over
find a warmer hold.

Certificate U
Poem
Miscellaneous
Inspiration Point (work that responds to our weekly writing cue)

Comments

Submitted by drew_gummerson on

Loved this. Lots of beautiful lines. 
 

Congratulations. It's our Facebook and X/Twitter Pick of the Day. 

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

Wonderful - congratulations queen beatle!

 

Submitted by queen beatle on

Thank you, glad you enjoyed!

 

Submitted by Tom Brown on

Isn't it ironic, iron rusts. from water oxygen and salt, all crucial to life. I liked thisi methafor most, "A siren swims past" Great on the cherries, must say you're doin well!

Tom

 

Submitted by a102866 on

"The echo of a lidless eye". I like that line particularly. What lies beneath the lens? A hollow cavity or an inner light? Unfortunately, we have both segments in today's society. I enjoy your porms! I can always pick out a line that stimulates my imagination. Oh, but beware of shills like me who hold to the Reader Response theory of literature!