Big sponge
sucks up
the small hours
in a matter of
minutes
sticky with
sweat drops
greasy with
cheers
in the right hand
of Saturday night
the humid windows
of bravery cry
vertical nonsense
even the walls
nod
and a handfull
of Dawn
cast a light on
the wringing
old sponge.
Want to review or comment on this poem?
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Reviews of "Like an illness"
Reviewed by Jane Rodway (Reader)
Reviewed on November 18, 2005
This reminded me of two things- a sick person in historical times, and also a sick person in a pub cleaning up after people, alcoholism, etc. Very thought-provoking for so short a piece.
I must really be the odd one as I do believe I understand what you have penned here! This is a multilayered metaphor that; to me, speaks of mundane, things taken for granted, that which we do not take a moment to enjoy anymore, all sucked up by the hurriedness...like an illness! I enjoyed this one, made me think here!
Just as life during the pandemic was color-coded with different hues representing different levels of danger, life in its aftermath has become shaded in similar ways. As a self-styled “Seeker of Beauty with Beauty,” (borrowing from a quote by W.E.B.
A homonymless man writes shows what it's like to look up the laid he skirts when you’re lying prone(d) to the sidewalk, beer / joint / needle dangling from your hand /lips / arm.
~Nikki~
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o(
well done