Rejected Bottle

On the crowded shelf I sit
Waiting for the great day to come
When my inner contents
Will be drank for the new
Beginning of another year

The celebrating night arrives
And I'm lifted from the shelf
To be placed in the freezer to chill
For just, only just, a couple hours
In the very cold dark space

"Happy New Years!" can be heard with
Dancing and singing enlightens the room
Outside the freezer so cold
To retrieve frozen pancakes for breakfast
And to discover frozen me
Laying on my side ready to burst

I'm placed down in the refrigerator
Not knowing soon my inners
Will spill out onto the floor
The color of blood so red, hands around my middle
Carry me to the cement cold wall on the outside
Where feelings of rejection engulf my inner self

2010

Reviews

[Kim S.]

The color of blood so red, hands around my middle
Carry me to the cement cold wall on the outside
Where feelings of rejection engulf my inner self

WOW!! such imagery in this write, I could feel the emotions in this write

[M. J. Smith]

Oh, man! Am I reminded of my youth or what? I never quite fit in with "normal" people. Bullied, picked on. Probably why books and poetry became my shelter. But one night, cicadas began to buzz. Mama told me they wait for years on end to become adults, live a brief time, have babies and die. Then, their children wait for their emergence. In that time, they live in underground darkness, much like the dark times that life throws at us.
"Their song is Job's lullaby," she told me.
Now, I pass her words on to you. Be like the cicada. When you emerge from your darkness, sing long and loud for the world to hear. Your poems are your cicada song.