When my worry shows up I notice it because it comes to me in the form of a gnome. When I wake up it's sitting at the edge of my bed. When I sit and have breakfast I look up and it's sitting across from me. He doesn't talk, just sits there. Then I get in my truck and I think I've ditched him but soon I find him strapped in, a passenger. After a while I get so annoyed I grab him by his head and toss him out the window. In the review I can see it breaking into many pieces on the highway. But as soon as I get to my destination and open the door it's right there, waiting for me. I throw it in the bed of the truck.
Did you know the Rolling Stones didn't write Time is on my Side?
Posted 9 Years Ago
9 Years Ago
not even the best version. Irma Thomas doing it just about splits me apart.
9 Years Ago
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_ArDnZrmi0
Irma Thomas doing anything just about split.. read morehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_ArDnZrmi0
Irma Thomas doing anything just about splits me apart. Can you imagine what it must have been like to walk around the block with Irma Thomas? Just to f*****g walk around. Chokes me up to think about.
Reminds me of the time I walked around the block with my grandmother. She was like 80, and looked no.. read moreReminds me of the time I walked around the block with my grandmother. She was like 80, and looked nothing like Irma Thomas. Maybe that was a bad example.
9 Years Ago
yeah, sort of. Nice you walked with your Grandma, though.
9 Years Ago
Yes, she was a fine woman. Great Irma Thomas video.
This was very well done. The last stanza hits strong. I love that the only time you directly reference panic is in the title. Great job at trusting the reader to understand what you've conveyed. The language is simple but strong and I find that talent to be rare in some poetry. Awesome job bud.
Those inner demons are very persistent; constantly gnawing away. Everyone copes differently, but it's an unassailable fact that if we don't face them, they grow stronger by the day.
Plath thought it ok, but I would consider it creepy to stay in Yeats' house. Yet I stay in a house
that a Polish couple built and raised a family in. In the attic their were a box of pictures,
some taken during the war of the most exceptional sensitivity, a Nazi occupation, days without
sleep and it showed in the faces of the young ones. I think that sometimes they come back
to visit me, just to see if the tulips, the gladiolas they tended still come up nearest the fence line.
They do.
Time takes good care of souls. They properly metabolize then absorb themselves into
substances; wood, putter, counter tops. I'm not afraid since a good poem will undoubtedly ward
them off.
When my worry shows up I notice it because it comes to me in the form of a gnome. When I wake up it's sitting at the edge of my bed. When I sit and have breakfast I look up and it's sitting across from me. He doesn't talk, just sits there. Then I get in my truck and I think I've ditched him but soon I find him strapped in, a passenger. After a while I get so annoyed I grab him by his head and toss him out the window. In the review I can see it breaking into many pieces on the highway. But as soon as I get to my destination and open the door it's right there, waiting for me. I throw it in the bed of the truck.
This is something I haven't seen you done before. This is raw and very scary to know. I thought that I was alone, no clue that something that keeps rising to the knees and throat while you're putting it aside could happen to anyone else. Great flow, and thank you for making it known...