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Distant returns

the way the suitcase fell
the way the hand closed slowly
To clutch the air
Echoes of silence grew louder
As if the room would break apart under the pressure closing in around us
So much escaping from the door half open
Listen to the clock count down a thunderstorm
Feel  the pressure equalizing
The suitcase opens with  clouds
  trade silence for the sounds of water falling and dripping and flowing away
Only distant thunder


About wherearetheheros

just someone my mother might know

7 responses »

  1. …the way the suitcase fell…

    Oh! What an entry! So immediate, I’m transfixed! Good poem.

  2. wherearetheheros

    Not happy with it but I do like how it starts

  3. I linked over from Buttermilk80 where you left a comment. On another blog I was challenged to get over my antipathy to poetry so I will stop by not and then to try my hand at what you write.

    Who knows, maybe you will be a catalyst.

    Grace and Peace

    • wherearetheheros

      I hope to be a catalyst
      So you can see things you might have missed
      But if still hate poetry
      That would be okay with me
      Because from the first
      You shot me straight
      My respect for that
      Will never cease
      For now and always
      grace and

      Thanks Pumice

  4. Ya, I’ve had one or two of those this month but it will work itself out to you in the end!

    It works for me, but often I find that ONLY when it rests well with the poet does it really sparkle.

  5. I’ve been sampling your poems and have enjoyed several of them. I’ll pick this one out for a comment because I find it very atmospheric – and it has an arresting opening! Very satisfying!


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