Sunday, October 2, 2011

Language for One Single Impression


Phrases of accusation
like bombs
exploded in my brain
all day.

I ranted
a ribbon of griefs
to the bed
as I changed it
and to the dishes
in sudsy death.

My complaints
slid down
the length
of the broom
and left a trail
of resentment
on the linoleum.

I was ready.

When you came home
I was spent.
We watched TV
in silence,
the language
of our life.


Ramesh Sood said...

Oh, there are one too many like this.. beautiful..

Jim said...

Hi Linda ~~ I like your poem. A rash of cleaning won't scrub those accusations away, will they?

Cynthia said...

Your poem paints a perfectly capsulized picture of a marriage and
how words can do inner damage.

SandyCarlson said...

A sorrowful silence, indeed. You have me thinking of the unhappiness that filled my once husband's parents house.

Amity said...

Oh I could relate to this so well...that is the language of our life as husband and wife...:)

But not with much guilt and remorse feelings...:)

Harshad mehta said...

I can visualize the scene. So well rendered.

gautami tripathy said...

Wonderful work! So well told....a pleasure to read.


Anonymous said...

I like that passion...!!

Linda's Poems