my head

is a time bomb ticking
me off, scoff
-ing at all things
sacred and sane.

it’s a pulsing vein
screaming, a too-bright
sun, the shunning
of one or more
normal days.

my head
is a drum un
-strung but beating,
bleating a song no one
wants to hear.

it’s a poem un
-written, a family un
-hugged, another
day wasted, hung
in fear.

my head
is a siren, a murmur,
a rant, a moan that
I can
not silence.

it’s a viole(n)t
wind, an unquiet
storm, a tempest
spinning useless

my head
is low, too far below;
for when you hold
your heart up high,
………… s(t)ings.




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9 Responses to my head

  1. Lacy J says:

    You poor thing.

    I LOVE the opening. And “my head is a drummin’.” 🙂 I do love a violent wind, dear. See you in three days.

  2. Ugh. I feel your pain — but your poetry still sings, despite the tempest. Feel better, mermaid. ❤

  3. Shawna says:

    of one or more
    normal days”

    I’m guess it’s one of those three-packs we hate so much. 😦

    Miss you. Sending you get-better vibes, prayers, and _____ (cherries?chalk?quit?ro{u}om?).

  4. Before I read the comments I was going to guess migraine as well. So sorry for you. But yes, – you’ve described it quite well here.

  5. Stop! You’re bringing on my vertigo. Just kidding, great poem, De.

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