A Poem by vincentbals

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



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


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.




© 2011 vincentbals

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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.

Posted 12 Years Ago

A good write vincentbals, I could almost hear this.

Posted 12 Years Ago

Splendid write. I always love your sincerity.

Posted 12 Years Ago

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.

Posted 12 Years Ago

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stark and haunting but beautifully phrased..emotive poem

Posted 12 Years Ago

Great poem (:

Posted 12 Years Ago

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6 Reviews
Added on February 2, 2011
Last Updated on February 2, 2011



Antwerp, Belgium

I grab every opportunity, life is my sincerity, and my sincerity is bliss. Maybe you’ll have to get to know me first before you can understand who I am, what I write and what I do. Let’.. more..

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