Poem #41: The Wall
#42 of Poetry
Sophmore year my English teacher took us outside, and told us to find two things and write a poem describing what we perceive about the things using the five senses. This is the other of the two poems.
The Wall
The wall is as warm
As the fresh-baked cookies
That our grandmothers' make;
Yet the heat radiates,
As if the wall is alive.
Rough as sandpaper, that is slowly
Tearing and clawing the skin as
A cat does your furniture;
Coarse as a farmer's hands
After a long days work.
A farmer's open field
To be seen:
Colored like that
Of an aged book,
Not yet eaten by its own age.
~bhscorch
"The Wall" by bhscorch is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License