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(7-4-1982 / Carlow)

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Memories are like dust
they gather in the corners of the head
in thickened clots
with years they pile
layer after layer

Cluttering your mind
the untidy nest

Until one day
some doctor oozing
subtle grace
armed with a smile
and 'generosity'
falling from his mouth

Looks you in the eye
and sees pain
the hollowed out holes
that see no evil, only hurt

Asks you straight
in his all-knowing voice

“Why do you have no broom
you're temple needs a broom
to sweep away the clutter'

'But I have just the cure'
and wipes them all away
cobwebs and tears
with just a page
from his prescription pad

And promises emancipation
with sure conviction
and kindly gestures for his fee

Submitted: Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Edited: Sunday, October 13, 2013

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  • Roseann Shawiak (10/16/2013 1:04:00 AM)

    Yes, doctors always try and give you prescription pills to clear the clutter, but it only muddles your intellect and turns your mind into an empty abyss. It's best to just write poetry, it sweeps away the cobwebs without destroying who you are and how you feel. Liked this poem. Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn

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