Sunday, February 20, 2011

cleaning house

when did the bird die?
under the head
of my creaky bed

where I sat
upon hours with a board
keying on my knees

feathers from quills
that poked my soft
impressionistic face

pillowed goosing
for restless sleeps
now resting four feet down


the graveyard sighs
the feathers fly
into vacuumed silence

8 comments:

  1. Very imaginative. We have so little control over the variables once decisions are made and must be seen through to their finish.

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  2. Kay, I'm impressed by your skillful use of personification. A fusion of scene and emotion.

    Chen-ou

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  3. Get organized at home! Articles, tips and free printables to help you clean house, cut clutter and organize life at home.

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  4. Well, there you go Kay. "House Cleaning Orange County" has bypassed all our verbiage and gone straight to the heart of the matter. Who says poetry doesn't change things when you get that kind of generous response?!

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  5. That has got to be the funniest thing to happen this year! They should stop talking and get to my house and clean it!

    :o) ~Kay

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  6. Kay,

    Absolutely lovely; it reads so sweetly, like a sheet drying in the wind on a perfect day.....pajamas

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  7. Pajamas, it is always a pleasure to see your words. Your comment is a poem. It takes me into spring...

    Thank you. ~Kay

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