I was born in a clean, bleach-scented hospital
after my mother ate a bowl of chilli con carne,
and then took a long walk on the sand dunes.
I was left in the hospital for a few weeks so
my mother could recover herself at home,
which was a blessing, she often said, as I was
a troublesome child. I’m told I was born with
a full head of hair, which immediately started
falling out. I wasn’t much bothered, but my
mother was, and I long continued in that vein.
PA AprilPAD Day 8: A Metaphor Poem
I Am Worth Picking Up
I’m a dusty old pine cone
fallen to the ground,
watch me bounce
and watch me roll.
I’m buggy and flea-ridden,
stiff and prickly, dried
in the sun and tumbled
by a gust of wind.
And spray painted.
And puzzled over like
some Fibonacci mystery.
I’m worth it. Pick me up.
The Poeming: Found poetry from Silence of the Lambs
Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter © Misky 2021