Replying to a comment on:

The Red Basket (Free verse) by pain killer

The lonely lady stood outside the stonewalled cottage plucking damp linen and memories that would never be from a nylon line whilst angry chickens clucked around her feet a childs voice crying in the distance the lady looks around an angry adult admonishing a sharp slap and harsh words heard in the drift over long empty acres then silence the lady turns the linen packed tight in a red plastic basket held close to her breast she steps back slowly towards the door leaving a small embroidered cotton cap on the floor

horus8 2-Jun-04/2:36 PM
Starving, sleeping, laying, dying, but not angry. Chickens do only a few things and anger is not one of them. they sleep, fuck, cluck scratch, eat, drink, and shit. You tit.




Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001