December 16, 2009
The long grass bristles
Chuckling as the breeze
Tickles over it
The old, old tree
Is a sentry
Watching over the long grass
Watching the old dirt road
Watching the dilapidated house
This house is a broken home
And she sits all alone
The girl sits all alone
In the broken home
With the door open
Staring at the drive
At the place where he
Left her
So alone
At the rusty old pickup truck
(Hers) that ran so loud
Thunk kathunk thump
Chipped blue paint peeling in the weather
Here she is not alone
There’s someone else here
To break this already broken girl

The grass whispers
Murder, murder
The old tree a silent sentry
For a sinner
But the sinner’s long gone, long gone
The girl’s blood dissolves so slowly
Into the ground
And the tree’s long
Willow branches
Comfort the soil
Comfort the grass
Comfort the solitary black rose
That grows, thornless,
From the broken grave of a pale broken girl
And the grass whispers
Murder, murder

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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

chocolateharp said...
Feb. 23, 2010 at 6:44 pm
Wow, this poem gave me chills!! The repetition was especially effective (and quite creepy- in a good way, of course!).
Doomcarrot replied...
May 28, 2010 at 9:54 am
Thanks so much! This poem actually won a Gold Key... :)
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