The Yard

Keep the critics behind your teeth,

Lest they bite the heads of the ones who feed

Hands slapped closed over mouths

Doubled up to leave words drowned

Bemused, my car drifts towards the fence

As the dull twinkle and flashes brighten

Until I get closer I do not see

The grave stones staring back at me

Headlights reflect and continue their march

Across the granite faces, stony cold looming large

And where have their minds escaped to

Released everything they once knew

Folds of matter once held it all together

The strings unraveled, a ragged feather

And here I stand above their empty heads

As they rest in their most permanent beds

◄ My attempt

Stormy Weather ►

Comments

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Alexandra Rockwell Lorenz

Mon 30th Jan 2017 15:01

Thank you, Martin and Juan. I appreciate both of your comments.

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Juan Pablo Lynch

Mon 30th Jan 2017 02:36

The picture you painted here is quite fuzzy but that adds to the appeal of this poem. I am a big fan of rhyming so I'm glad that you are getting into it. Thanks for sharing.
Juan

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Martin Elder

Sun 29th Jan 2017 18:08

I love the metaphors here relating to closed mouths and the description of the grave yard.
Good stuff

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Alexandra Rockwell Lorenz

Fri 27th Jan 2017 20:57

Thanks for your feedback, Colin. I'm just starting to experiment with rhyming so hopefully the poems will keep improving.
Alex

<Deleted User> (13762)

Fri 27th Jan 2017 08:47

I like the almost rhymes -

teeth / feed
mouths / drowned
march / large

fence / brighten - less so despite the visual similarity of 'en'

I'm not sure I am fully grasping all of the meaning behind this poem but I like the imagery - especially of the car drifting towards the fence, the grave stones and those last two lines. Thanks for posting. Colin

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