Grass Seed

Lying under a
Fallen ceiling,
Destroying ants
With my fingers
And tasting the dirt
On the floor,
My tongue
Is a blanket
On a now
Broken bed.

There were
Songs here once,
Memories that smelt
Like a buffet,
Well-organised food
Strewn beautifully
Across the room,
Alive from the hands
Of a mother’s
Plump ego.

The crimson
Sounds of ringing
Sit oozing
From my ears,
Trickles that tickle
Like scurrying mice
Across the heavenly lap
Of a vicar’s
Virgin daughter,
A numbness pervading,
A lesson in learning.

There is little
Time to waste,
Are mounting,
Lies punctured,
Silence is growing,
It’s a barren situation,
The crack of twenty ribs,
A seed upon the concrete,
A sparrow in the sky.

2 Responses to “Grass Seed”

  1. You have some very good poetry.
    This poem was very interesting, I especially like the end of this poem.

  2. dunstancarter Says:

    Thanks for your comments. Glad you liked it!

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