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by Bishti 

Posted: 14 March 2009
Word Count: 97
Summary: This is a rework of a previously submitted poem -Fashion me the dark safe corners of home

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You build this violent light
That smells like danger might
Intrude with strangerís words,
constructed, hardly heard.

Control is yours, while mine
Is stolen by routine
With danger stamped in red
in safetyís name

And I am laid upon an iron rising bed
Where clinical regime
crafts raised adrenaline

It seems your attitude
Invades the process,
And fails to recognise that more
begets less.

Fashion me the dark safe corners of home
Where I can hold my pain alone
And bend like the willow bough
To labourís winding,
Draw within to see
my baby leaving me.

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Comments by other Members

V`yonne at 00:15 on 25 March 2009  Report this post
I've kind of forgooten the first with this so it's hard to compare - I liked both

cust at 15:50 on 09 April 2009  Report this post
I totally get the sentiment. I know exactly that feeling - of medicalisation, intervention, standardisation, impersonal treatment, sausage factory aproach to natural processes....

Am I reading you?

I like it a lot - I don't always like rhyme but I do when it does not intrude.


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