Join for FREE | Take the Tour Lost Password?
[x]

deviantART

 


He hung a teaspoon
on the door instead
of a hat, fed us mud
instead of porridge.

At night we heard him
squirm in the confines
of a bed too small
for his page-like frame.

The dreams produced
were too big for his head
and often dripped through
the ceiling. One morning

I woke with men marching
on my lap. Another,
with giant ants, paprika-red.
The day he left, I found

him by my window, wearing
an Icarus suit, desperate
to fly even though the feathers
had been melted to his skin.
©2009 ~Tigermoth99
:icontigermoth99:

Author's Comments

This is a poem I wrote about Icarus being a family man. Enjoy.

Comments


love 0 0 joy 0 0 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconyouinventedme:
great imagery

--
one half of ~ZombiesAteUs
:iconbrassteeth:
This is really great. Well Done!

--
BT.

"The truth knocks on the door and you say, "Go away, I'm looking for the truth," and so it goes away."
— Robert M. Pirsig
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle maintanance
:iconfollowmebackhome:
i really like this, especially the first stanza (:

--
a n d a l l i n t h e c o l d l i g h t o f m o r n i n g
:iconjamberry-song:
Just fantastic imagery. And the flow and the language are just stellar. An incredible piece, through and through.

--
[link] - Sci-fi flash fiction for tomorrow, every day.

[link] - Wickedly Loquacious, a dA writers' community!

DA lit chat: [link]
:iconotherwise-duck:
I absolutely love this.

Details

March 23
700 bytes

Statistics

6
7 [who?]
99 (0 today)
1 (0 today)

Site Map