Sunday, October 2, 2011

Language for One Single Impression

Language

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
immersed
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.
at

8 comments:

  1. Ramesh SoodOctober 2, 2011 at 11:28 AM

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

    ReplyDelete
  2. JimOctober 2, 2011 at 3:23 PM

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

    ReplyDelete
  3. CynthiaOctober 2, 2011 at 8:41 PM

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

    ReplyDelete
  4. SandyCarlsonOctober 2, 2011 at 8:51 PM

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

    ReplyDelete
  5. AmityOctober 2, 2011 at 11:21 PM

    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...:)

    ReplyDelete
  6. Harshad MehtaOctober 3, 2011 at 4:58 AM

    I can visualize the scene. So well rendered.

    ReplyDelete
  7. gautami tripathyOctober 3, 2011 at 7:54 AM

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

    unspoken

    ReplyDelete
  8. AnonymousOctober 4, 2011 at 2:26 PM

    I like that passion...!!

    ReplyDelete

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