Shot down in its prime.
Shot down
While making daisy chains in the park
For little girls to be daisy queens.
Shot down
While tottering down the catwalk
In this years daring fashion.
Shot down
While bungee jumping from Brooklyn bridge.
Shot down
While kite boarding on Porthmadog beach
Shot down
While refusing ecstasy at a rave,
High on the beat and energy of the music
Shot down
While drawing a moustache on Mona Lisa
And carrying Michelangelo’s David
Back to its rightful place in the square,
Where he can enjoy the sunshine, rain and wind
In his hair.
Shot down in its prime.
Lying dead now
On a cold white slab.
Experts dissecting its liver and heart,
Picking over interesting bits.
Sew it back together
Please.
Don’t leave it in the fridge.
Give it a decent burial,
Leave it some dignity
And let me weep for it,
Shot down in its prime.
death of a poem...alright...but words resurrect strong here...a poem emotional built on good metaphor base...10
Give it a decent burial, Leave it some dignity And let me weep for it, Shot down in its prime. - - - - It's not dead. It's too lively to be dead! 10
I think it has been resuscitated! ! ! And deservedly so! ! A charming and valid write!
Enjoyed your poem Sallie. Sometimes our poems are 'shot down' or not appreciated by 'experts' but the beauty of a good poem will always triumph. Much enjoyed :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is VERY good. Had to start it again straight away I enjoyed it so much. S x