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Poetry Assignment
She was a troubled girl, says the color of her dress
hanging over a torn up and damaged door;
a sad one too, says the tear soaked bed in
the corner; A strange, God-hating
one, says the carving in the wall and
the positions of the rocks on the shelf;
but not a girl of society, say the poems
of suicide and depression on the desk.
A cat lived with her, says the scratching
post near the door with catnip covering the
floor around it, and it lived in the room
says the bag of cat food ripped open.
Light was scarce, say the candles melted
on the desk dripping down to the floor,
and so was food, say the half eaten bars
of food and bags of chips.
Something went wrong, says the knife in
a puddle of blood.  Poems on the desk say
she was not part of society; the color of
her dress say she worn it many times.
And the cat?  Hairballs line the floor like soldiers -
cat food, some black hair, a few potato chips.
Something went wrong, they say.
:iconleonistheenigma:LeonisTheEnigma 150 156
Cat Lady
When I grow old
she said
I will be the crazy cat lady
all the neighbors talk about.
I will dwell
in a house of sycamore
and live off taffy and gin,
and paint my ceilings yellow.
I will dangle carrots
off the clothesline
and only bathe on Sundays.
I will keep 47 cats
(or maybe 63)
and give them names
like Cumberbund and Camembert
and let them sleep in the kitchen sink
where they can dream of midnight raids
on the pantry-
of sardines poached in pepper sauce
and mocking bird and beetle pie
and we will fish off the crumbling pier.
I will tie bells to their tails
to warn the birds
they are invited for a meal
and watch them flying over
the horizon,
their wings a tell tale
sigh of autumn weather.
And at night we will curl
up on the porch
fur bristling under blankets
and October's jumbled moon
to dream of chasing
mice among the rafters.
:iconscarlettletters:Scarlettletters 178 115
Milk Carton
They found you
on a milk carton,
a stone's throw
from the tarp left
mildewing on the pool.
Your face was sleepy
and they did not recognize
your shirt.
Who dressed you that morning?
Who gently combed out your hair
and zipped up
your yellow boots
so you could squash puddles
in the garden?
Mother will tell stories
to the empty bed
and pretend it is your shadow
playing on the wall
And father will wait
on the porch,
praying the light
will come back to the sky.
:iconscarlettletters:Scarlettletters 104 69


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Seeking more knowledge regarding Circular Galliffryen. I wish to honor my family with a tattoo and would be able to say much in a small space, besides it brings out my inner geek.


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Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Father, friend, unemployable poet, Child of God, advocate, lover of children, animals and occasionally myself.


Add a Comment:
Ancusmitis Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2016  Student Writer
Welcome to deviantArt
childofthelivingGod Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks, this isn't my first entry into the world of DA. My original email address became corrupted and I had to start over.