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Words February 22, 2009

Posted by Phil Groom in Poetry.


I threw a brick
through a window last night.
The brick just laughed
while the window cried –
bits of broken glass lying bleeding on the floor,
no one picked them up:
no one knew what they were for.

Throwing bricks
through the windows
of other people’s lives
leaving jagged edges jutting
out at us like sharpened knives:
we think we are so clever
with the careful words we choose
and we feel so much better
when they leave a nasty bruise.

Words are free —
but we’ll pay the price,
Words are weapons —
but we’d best think twice
before we draw them
to join in the fight —
will we speak in love
or will we speak in spite?

Did no one ever tell you
that a word is like a sword?
Good for slashing,
good for stabbing,
and it brings its own reward
as the blood flows freely down the polished blade
to leave your best friend reeling with the mess you’ve made…

Words are like a rainbow,
dancing in the sky,
filled with golden promises
that hide behind a lie:
for when the storm is over
the rainbow can’t be found
and the pot of gold
it promised you
is gone,
without a sound.

They can pick you up
or they can knock you down,
they can creep like mice
or they can dance like clowns,
tumbling like an avalanche
to bury me alive,
whirling like a boomerang,
there’s nowhere left to hide,
coming back to haunt me:
like a brick between the eyes.

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