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Oct 01, 2018
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It's Not the First Time I've Bled
It's not the first time I've bled
but it's the first time
that I remember
enjoying it
when I scraped my knuckles
and opened a gash
against the sharp edge of a stainless steel table
I caught in just the wrong way.
I smiled,
I remember smiling
and thinking
"this doesn't hurt too much."
It's not the first time I've bled.
Other than that
I wore it like a badge
for an hour or two.
My mother told me to be careful;
I may not survive the next round.
And sadly, this is something I think she would know.
About This Poem
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
raj
6 years 9 months ago
Hi Connect
this is another example of your prowess in connecting a small event with a poem...
made good reading..
..........................................................................
Rula
6 years 9 months ago
Conect 11
what raj has just said. This is simple yet exquisite.
Especially liked the punch line about how mothers know almost everything about everything :) or that what I always thought. :-)
Much enjoyed!
Shadowdancer3349
6 years 9 months ago
connect
Reading this was like intruding on every word of your thought well done
Geezer
6 years 8 months ago
Rebel, Rebel...
There were those days and you brought them into sharp focus. Nice job. ~ Gee.
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