when being soft becomes hard

was it too much for you

to even hear the sound of your own echoing footsteps

running down and away

from the empty street at midnight where you live?

 

or, did your vulnerable listening

not want to take in another single thing

should it have included yet more bad news,

 

news that would always be repeating

freshly inked on the broadsheets

of communal gossip

 

refused by you in the same way

kids refuse lifts

from shadowy men in shadowy cars

 

because the men did not represent themselves as men

but demons

because the cars did not represent themselves as cars

but paedophilic traps for the unwary child.

 

There again, were you representing yourself?

sentimentalist? hyper-sensitive? coward?

 

or a person defending a heart so pure

that if it had heard the moon crying

it would have broken into pieces of pieces, of pieces.

 

 

◄ understanding values

Lord Lonely ►

Comments

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LEON STOLGARD

Tue 2nd Jul 2019 10:34

huge huge appreciations ladies and gents for comments and 🌷's

Devon, re my reading it aloud-
think of fingernails scrawping across a blackboard 😧

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Devon Brock

Mon 1st Jul 2019 22:46

Wow, Leon, blown away again. Everything in this poem is so well placed. I would love to hear you read it aloud. That final stanza! There you have it - an exclamation point.

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Martin Elder

Mon 1st Jul 2019 20:32

Those last few lines are absolute killers. In particular
'That if I had heard the moon crying'


Absolutely stunning

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Rose Casserley

Mon 1st Jul 2019 14:35

top gear Mr S. Freshly inked gossip?
now there's an ink that never dries! 😉








Rose 💋

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