Baking

Baking a small piece of meat,

In a rusty old pan.

Water drops falling and splashing,

From above, through the holes

In the roof above my head.

 

No blue sky to be seen,

Nor a ray of sunshine falling

Through the cracks,

Making the dust on the kitchen

Dance.

 

A quick lightning

lights up

the place where it’s always dark.

 

My heart?

 

Lashing rain intrudes the egg’s territorial.

Hissing, burning  and splashing.

 

My thoughts swiftly

Surrender.

My hands regret

even quicker.

 

Burning hands push away,

the rusty old heating pan.

Splashing rain makes the meats fat

Jump over the border and land

on my  hands.

 

Leaving scars, most of which

Didn’t hurt as much as,

the truth.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I enjoyed this poem. You create images of what life can be and how it can end. Last lines was amazing. Great truth in your words. A excellent poem.
Coyote

[Angela Mulley]

A good write vincentbals, I could almost hear this.

[My Fair Lady]

Splendid write. I always love your sincerity.

[FireWoman]

Your thoughts take you away for a moment only for reality to send you a reminder of what you were doing. Raw thought process, nice.

[.]

stark and haunting but beautifully phrased..emotive poem

[KatiePie]

Great poem (: