Lines And Angles Of My Town
As a child, I walk
in my slippers sod with lines
and angles
of my town, sleepless
and full of smokes-
oft drizzling
down my thought, coating it
in a multi-
cultural haze.
I am the child
of a roseate womb
and my breath smells milk,
but I wear guns-
cold like ice.
I wonder if
poetry can calm
the shivers
of blood
in my tiny hands.
Copyright © 2010 Ernesto Pangilinan Santiago
“From the mouths of babes comes wisdom” and also vengeance for the babe is hungry and they have no one. No mother,no father for this town of mine has taken them. now I will take from it. This is what I get from this beautifull piece. I would like to invite you to 1markt.wordpress.com and please leave a comment if moved to do so.
By: 1markt on March 23, 2010
at 2:57 pm
Very strong poem…this reminds me of a child that I saw drop to the floor when she heard the screen door slam thinking it was a drive-by.
By: slpmartin on March 23, 2010
at 5:43 pm