Wednesday, November 10, 2010

The Life & Times Of a Piece of Paper.

He took crayon to paper,

Such bright coloured paper

And pinked it with glitter and glue.

The words made no sense.

But in their expense,

He poured out his mind of un-filtered hue.

And he couldn't reach the counter;

Where the telephone rang

And he said hello to whoever was there.

And mommy wiped the stains off his face, even though she knew they’d come back

And daddy tucked him into bed and kissed him on the forehead

And story time put him to sleep

And he made dreams

He took pencil to paper,

Such widened, lined paper

And practised his a-b’s and 2-3’s.

He coloured off the lines

Of smudges and designs

But they were not very pleased.

And he could swipe through the counter

Where he’d grab his paper bag

And run off somewhere

And mommy kissed him goodbye, but he wiped off the lipstick

And daddy was hard at work; at least that was what she told him

And he threw a tantrum when daddy couldn’t read a story

And mommy tried to.

He took pen to paper,

Such plain, blue-lined paper

And wrote of what he was told to.

The words were generic.

Thoughts turned numeric;

- But he got an A - who cares what he wanted to do?

And he ran by the counter

To grab the keys and some cash

And left for somewhere - he can’t remember

And that woman screamed for him, without avail

And that man wasn’t there - he was never there

And he fell asleep at his friend’s couch - at someone's couch

And he was out

He took dust to paper

Such tattered, torn paper,

And laced it with powder and spit.

A pathetic, flicked ember

In the cold of December;

Whispering to nothing, "one last hit".

And he couldn't reach the counter

Where the beeping dial tone;

Came on after he typed one 9 and one 1.

And the woman was long gone, not caring

And the man was down deep

And he fell to pieces, but never resting

And he was out… cold

And the paper burned

And the fire ate

And the neighbours screamed

And the tires screeched

And the water drenched

And the memories singed

And the body cold; Was held dear by the woman

And the boy saw his daddy

And his mommy soon came

And so he took pencil to paper

Such faded, frail paper

And wrote of what he had felt

Just before the smudges in the beeping car pulled him back

From somewhere - he can't remember

And his mother cried

And his father died

And he was in bed

And fell asleep one last time…

With a crumpled piece of paper by his bedside.


NakedSha said...


Lovely, as usual

EdithSmiles said...

Thank you ! Xo

Claudia said...

I'm so in love with this poem! It keeps transitioning but still somehow stays on point! Love it to pieces!

EdithSmiles said...

Aww. Thankss honey bunch ! Xo