Treasure Island

John Kipling Lewis

(3/12/1968 / Manhattan, KS)


Your tie is crooked.
You're broken.

Your slip is showing.
You're broken.

Your shoe lace is untied.
You're broken.

And if you're lucky,
if you're very lucky,
someone will tell you
before the world notices
and you can fix yourself.

Submitted: Friday, February 24, 2006

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (broken by John Kipling Lewis )

Enter the verification code :

  • x... x... (11/14/2007 1:04:00 AM)

    In a way a part of all of us is broken, the difference being in the amount of damage done....I think of it as 'Bits and pieces of my Heart wandering to and fro..I ask, Which way am I to go? '..Fractured hearts and fractured lives, c'est la vie, oui? . marci.m. (Report) Reply

  • Kath Moore (11/5/2007 2:21:00 PM)

    4. Doesn't say much. Has images, but only on a shallow, barely sketched dimension. The idea is good. It needs to be treated in a more detailed manner. (Report) Reply

Read all 4 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe Updates

New Poems

  1. Love lasts forever, Tiku akp
  2. The Book Town, David Harris
  4. aaz rawiwar hai, Upendra Singh
  5. Life As A Feather, Richard Provencher
  6. The Brocades Spilling Out From Your Baza.., mary douglas
  7. In A Sugared Quiet Lit By Multicoloured .., mary douglas
  8. Go on freely, gajanan mishra
  9. Mirror image, Mario,Lucien,Rene Odekerken
  10. Weaver Of Waves, Saiom Shriver

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

[Hata Bildir]