Sunday, March 7, 2021 12:33 AM

In this oversized jacket 

I hold a feast of burdens.

Yet, the pockets are so large

they barely bulge.

Maybe they sink a little

under the weight of it all,

but the fabric, old and worn,

bears the burden placed upon it.


The tight, woven synthetic polyester

has held together for so long

with unrelenting strength.

Staying intact just enough

to remain a comfortable garment.


Its flaws have been thrown to the way side,

discarded without second thought.

When it is thrown over shoulders,

it is zipped and then worn out into the cold.

The wind is bitter but the air

isn't too bad.


The day the pockets broke

was especially cold.

The wind whipped and whistled,

the air snapped.


The burdens, once so artfully

wrapped in warmth and protection,

fell victim to the weight of a downward force.

The coat unzipped,

the fabric stretched so thin, and

the seams ripped

until it was Too Damaged

to be worn again.

◄ Thursday, November 19, 2020 11:23 PM


Rose Casserley

Sun 7th Mar 2021 12:37

Pardon my convenient way of commenting hk, but as you can see Keith has said it all which I echo.

Very good poem indeed!

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keith jeffries

Sun 7th Mar 2021 10:10

This poem, beautifully crafted is open to interpretation as it could apply to so many aspects of life, yet it is a jacket which has become the symbol. It asks questions about value and worth. It speaks of being discarded when no longer of use or value. This cannot be read as merely a poem about a worn out jacket; it is rich in suggestions and causes the reader to ponder deeply.

Thank you for this

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