Waiting only for the recoil
As the lid they lift
And it blows--as they sniffed--
Into the face of the onlooker--
My pressure cooker.
My eyes stare cold like ice.
Cold tomato-red slices:
Blood is there,
Bubbling up as it greets the air.
For now the secret is hiding
As I wait and Time is biding
My Mind is taut; thought brims
To my frozen face, rigid limbs
With too great a misery
To move. My arms blistery,
Rage waits, quieted by new scores
With a blade as sharp and friendly
As an inciteful paramour
all rights are held by
Cynthia Lott Vogel
Cynthia Lott Vogel
06-20-09
Any Reproduction in any form is forbidden without the expressed consent of the author
.
Any Reproduction in any form is forbidden without the expressed consent of the author
.
2 comments:
I like these lines:
With a blade as sharp and friendly
As an inciteful paramour
In this poem, the pain is flowing like the blood in a vein that is just now cut by a sharp blade.
-Naval
Intense Cynthia- I am sure many can relate.
Praying you succeed in your worthy goal of encouraging others who have mental Illness to some degree- you are that to me and my family as we walk through the Bi Polar experience with our son. We have a NAMI meeting tonight- we always learn so much from others who have walked this path before us as you have. Thank you for your transparency and encouraging words you offer those of us to keep the faith.
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