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Literature
Folsom
Folsom
It was on the dripping Saturday mornings, grass heavy,
wet; the air hanging out the windows in gray streaks;
when the TV was on the fritz, or reruns
painted its numbing
swirl in the colors of boredom.
That was the type of morning Johnny Cash
found his way to the top
of the battered stack; we'd sing of Folsom Prison in our pajamas,
eat pancakes while he danced around the faded room, weaving
between us, spilling parts of himself
he didn't believe in, even
as the sun ushered out
the mists; and the yard – once sodden – birthed
its own green sheen.
We were too young then, to hear the end
of the story: to und
All
1050 deviations
Literature
Folsom
Folsom
It was on the dripping Saturday mornings, grass heavy,
wet; the air hanging out the windows in gray streaks;
when the TV was on the fritz, or reruns
painted its numbing
swirl in the colors of boredom.
That was the type of morning Johnny Cash
found his way to the top
of the battered stack; we'd sing of Folsom Prison in our pajamas,
eat pancakes while he danced around the faded room, weaving
between us, spilling parts of himself
he didn't believe in, even
as the sun ushered out
the mists; and the yard – once sodden – birthed
its own green sheen.
We were too young then, to hear the end
of the story: to und
Featured
513 deviations
Kevin
123 deviations
Literature
stash
like a child with
too many siblings,
I hid you like
stolen chocolates
my personal
stash of guilty
pleasure
my limited
supply of forbidden
sweetness
and like a
greedy girl,
I stuffed myself
with your
goodness
and came
back for
more only
to find
you were
prepared to
give me all
I wanted
Cindy
45 deviations
Gretchen
20 deviations
Michael
40 deviations
Edie
1 deviation
Brendan
84 deviations
John
9 deviations
Alec
42 deviations
Queen Mary
62 deviations
Simon
18 deviations
Photography
30 deviations
Artwork
5 deviations
Literature
Dad's World
He was forty-five when I showed up,
His breaths pre-dating the great depression.
He was a marked man, my Dad.
Marked by an indomitable good nature
And by a vertical scar
On the left side of his forehead.
As a toddler, he had reached
To the top of the hand-crank clothes washer
To pull himself up.
Instead, he pulled the washer down.
And as he buckled beneath it,
The cast iron gearing
Split his head open like a soft melon.
To stop the bleeding
They packed the wound in sugar –
One of those emergency home remedies
That kept people alive back then.
It seems to have worked.
He was a hands-on guy, my Dad,
Ever since he w
Literature
46 deviations
Literature
Blueskye27
Like dogwood petals
On a late spring day
They flit and float-
Precious vessels
Drifting to distant ports
Where we wait
Expectantly.
James
10 deviations
Alec42
