Broken
By Lemuel Crouse
It is broken and I cannot fix it
On my own and so I cry...and cry.
I have pulled back some layers,
Tried to see what lies beneath,
But it is beyond my understanding,
This machine that runs my world.
I clumsily prod with a spanner,
Nudging random bolts, hoping
To help more than hurt, wishing
I knew just what to do to set it
Again in motion, flying, whirring,
Happily dancing with love of life.
I am like a gearbox, broken by
A thrown cog, bollox, busted,
Locked up, going to rust fast.
I just want to pull the blanket
Over my head like lush sod,
Until the grinding scream stops.
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7 comments:
So much pain screams through your words. Solace in the sod? Maybe. Maybe in the hand of God. Wherever it exists, I wish it found.
An intense and well written poem for the prompt! Like Karen I can hear the pain in your words.
The lovely lush sod...but not over your head...not just yet...
pull the blanket
Over my head like lush sod,
Oh, this is soooo good!
but who is Lemuel Crouse?
Grand sentiments, Linthead, dive in !
So moving and painfully intense. I loved it and was very moved by your lovely phrases! Honestly. In spite of the next paragraph.
Then my ever skeptical side thought it might be a satire on the state of the political machine that wants to run my world; to make some people more equal than others and to keep women at home, barefoot and pregnant. That machine is totally "beyond my understanding" and definitely makes me "want to pull the blanket over my head like lush sod, until the grainding scream stops."
Forgive me for taking this beautiful work and ruining it.
It is the absolute, beautiful purpose of published poetry to meet people where they are, to mean to them what they read into it. There is no need for forgiveness, dear NCMW! Besides, I agree with you 100% on THAT subject. No, I didn't write it with politics in mind...it is very much personal, a bit too autobiographical for comfort, even, but I LOVE your skeptical reading of it!
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