A Poem On My Wrist Poem by Bree Swart
A Poem On My Wrist
I wrote a poem today,
I wrote it on my wrist,
I wrote it with a razor,
It ended in a twist.
The blade is sharp and narrow,
I do it to kill the pain,
But as I finished the first sentence,
The razor hit the vein.
I watched the poem run down my hand,
I watched it hit the floor,
I saw a puddle of blood,
And then I saw no more.
You sum it up brilliantly, Bree: not a word surplus or out of place. Do write more, please - & look after yourself too.
I quite like how different this is to other razor poems...short, but straight to the point...great work
Poetry, life and death never inform while entering or leaving...The blade really is very sharp and narrow..the pang of pain is iresistible..I really like this poem..small, written in simple words but the meaning conveyed is appealing to the heart..I never felt like this before reading a verse..Here you have shown the true ability of a poet..the last stanza is beautifully pictured....a deserved and hearty ten...Take care. Gul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/26/2024 8:16:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Sad but well written reminds me of my poems both about similar things.