Sonnet 6:03 a.m.

As sudden as a gunshot, a sharp pain
Shoots through my body nearly crippling
Me. Patience- as I wait for it to wane,
I cry the pain results in tripling.
A thorny rosebush blossoms into me,
Pricking and irritating my inside
As I throw my head back in retreat
To fix the abashed and sorely bruised pride.
Recovering is a trick I learn fast.
The thorns leave my body surely but slow.
I’m aware that this will not be the last,
Yet I know that no faster will I go.
Soap in the eyes will sting for an hour,
So slow down when washing in the shower.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

karaashley09 said...
Mar. 26, 2010 at 5:55 pm
This is a cleaver poem! I enjoyed the line about your "sorely bruised pride". Thanks for showing that simple subjects can make wonderful poems. :)
 
toastersteudle replied...
Mar. 26, 2010 at 10:49 pm

No, thank you for saying you liked it! :)

I love writing, and then adding any kind of imagery and words to it. Thanks

 
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