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I’ve spoken on my blog a couple of times about how intimidating I find writing poetry, which is now a weekly task on my creative writing module. After receiving feedback on the first week’s poem, and not being kicked off the course, I have finally plucked up the courage to post one of my poems. I’d love to hear your feedback, so please do drop me a comment!

Broken

There is great beauty in things that once served us,

But can no longer do us the honour,

When the roller has become dislodged

Ink expired, what of the reams that those

weapons scribbled upon, cramping wrists?

Alone with your thoughts, do you ever think

of your leftover plastic, once your ticket

to anything you desire, now shredded

along the bumps, card numbers obscured to

resist fraud.

Fortune cookies, cardboard orange, snapped and

Useless, vessel for that message you want

To hear, crumbled dreams, no longer dessert

but deserted.

A lipstick nub, a memory of the smile

you once painted on, an outline of a

brave face against the storms, at full extension

but no pigment to be seen.

A face washed clean.

The frail once waltzed, walked along promenades,

but now crumbling bones and decay mean

reclining chairs provide more comfort.

But humans should be celebrated when

they can no longer do some of the things

that make them human, a scrapbook of liveliness,

livelihood and likeliness of getting things done.

A walk through the passages of time, with

relics to pass on and wisdom to give,

but only if someone will listen.

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5 thoughts on “Broken, a poem

  1. lovely poem Zoe I especially like the lines ‘humans should be celebrated when they can no longer do some of the things that make them human’ – wonderful, wise and moving.

  2. Pingback: Broken – a redraft | zoë ashton

  3. You kept this quiet Zo! Very thoughtful, loved the idea of the lipstick, I think you could write a whole poem on that idea alone!

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