Tool Shed Heart

I left my heart in the tool shed
among the weedy ruins of last year's spring,
and the rust-filled buckets, empty of water,
for no one comes out or goes in.
A sparrow's nest tucked in the corner
no longer a humble home makes,
but sits empty and thread-bare
where once it was awake.
The cling and clank of shovels
is just a memory,
an echo of what used to be
before the snow rolled in.
So here is my liver and my spleen,
looking a little thin and a little green,

wanting use and worse for wear

that is how I misplaced them there.

I left my heart in the tool shed

among the rusty nails and artifacts

and vines have laced through the valves
where once the blood pumped in.
Next year, in the thaw,

when the robin makes her first call

and the crocus shows her face,

I might dig them out again.

Reviews

[M P Ramesh]

invisible,
It is left for the writer to use images and create situations suitable for his/her narration. The view of the most beloved part's alien occupation is almost an attempt from the writer to express the way for minimising the personal element and to keep the work as universal. The challenge is simply overcome and there is hope for its further ownership. Rightly said that the future is designed by the writer only without words and readers get it between words.

carry on............

M P Ramesh

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Incredible imagery brings this so much to life...
You are adept at creating strong feeling with what you show.
I am reminded of my dad's tool shed...and how he would send me to get one of his tools, then when I could not find it...he would mutter to himself at me until he looked and discovered that he had left that tool in the garage or somewhere else. I miss him.
but I dig the memories out constantly.
j.

[emmajoy]

' I left my heart in the tool shed - among the rusty nails and artifacts - and vines have laced through the valves - where once the blood pumped in. '

This beautiful writing flows with gentle yet calm as calm passion, memories galore, a place in which safety is wrapped in the past, thoughts warm, needed... always ever present. Would pay a queen's ransom for such a place..

[00000000000000000000000..]

I love how you place all very metaphoric in sound and I understand all too well the feelings in this write. I did enjoy reading:)

[AllauraRose]

This is an amazing metaphor on how hearts can be damaged throughout the years, so we try to keep ours locked away from everyone. Amazing work!

[Re-Pete]

ouch. feeling some hurt in this. better than being taken to the woodshed i guess. nice metaphor & imagery. reads & flows smoothly. good write.

[Koushik Sen]

Disturbing at places. well written.

[Sami Khalil]

"The cling and clank of shovels
is just a memory,
an echo of what used to be
before the snow rolled in."


Thank you for sharing this good poem. Excellent...:).....................

[Pandora E.]

I have just one word for this; wow.

[Joshua Carl Cruz]

this is absolutely beautiful and probably lost on some but not this one right here. Fantastic