poetry critical

online poetry workshop

Empty Seats and Broken Teeth.

You aren't a mother anymore,
but you're babying your thoughts.
If I'm dying you'll be bringing.
If I'm dead, I'll be brought.
If we're alive,
if we can help it,
let the love sink in.

24 Nov 06

Rated 6 (6) by 1 users.
Active (1): 6
Inactive (0):

(define the words in this poem)
(53 more poems by this author)

Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha


short but with aim.
 — listen

No clue what you're trying to convey here.  
 — Isabelle5

It's about a friend of mine passing away last year. His mother was a teacher of mine.
 — lieskilllies