The Walls

Here is a poem I need to revise and revise, any constructive criticsm on it would greatly be appreciated.

The walls ask for things

like money, bills, rent.

 

Women ask for things

like shoes, clothes, children.

 

The walls are louder than

women though and more demanding.

 

A quarter, a dollar.  Women

are more flexible.  The walls

 

are stiff and unyielding like

grey cement and red brick.

 

The roof shields me from

the sun, stars, rain and wind.

 

It, too, is more silent than

the walls meeting my green

 

eyes.  The hardwood floor creaks,

its only sound when I tred.

 

It has gravity on its side.

But, the walls never stop asking

 

for things and I fear I am pulled

as by women, headlong, penniless

 

into their cracks. I talk back to the

walls.  Tell them they can have

 

nothing.

 

 

Reviews

[Siddartha Beth Pierce]

The one part of this poem that does not fit for me is the mention of the hardwood floors:

The hardwood floor creaks,

its only sound when I tred.

- logically speaking it doesn't quite make sense as you are talking about walls and women throughout the poem - I am really wondering what sounds they make rather than the floors - just doesn't seem to suit the rest of your poem's subject matter.

Interesting work - great comparisons. I can certainly empathize with thoughts such as these.
Thank you.
Light,
Siddartha