we are
broken
each one
of us
from the
inside
(no matter
how beautiful,
or talented,
or together
we pretend
to be)
there are
cracks,
porcelain
fine,
criss-
crossed
etchings
across our
souls.
we are
whole
each one
of us
on the
inside
(no matter
how battered,
or discouraged,
or frightened
life has
made us)
there are
gold shot
veins of
strength,
defying
all odds
celebrating
our souls’
survival.
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
Doing the best I can with what I have
kind of sad, but not so bad with cheese. cheese not provided.
My streams of thought meet here
Conceptual Photographer and Writer
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Killer Fiction
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Besteesydian
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Life in a flash - a bi-weekly storytelling blog
MARK PETRUSKA | WRITER
Short essays about novels and other fictional works
By Ian Garrabrant
Home of Micropoetry, Literature, art and philosophy.
Just a fiction writer, trying to reach the world.
I'd curtsy but I'm drunk.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
I’ve always loved the story of how the bowl is repaired using gold, and becomes more valuable for it’s scars! Nice piece!
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Thank you! Oddly enough, I wrote the first part of this poem and thought I was finished. Then I went searching for a picture to add. When I saw this one I knew I needed another verse.
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I love the poem. I may be broken on the inside (which would certainly explain the rattling when I walk) , but little by little I notice I’m developing cracks on the outside too, especially around the eyes and the corner of my mouth.
I agree with Sharkseek, by the way. Using gold to repair crockery is a great idea. Just as soon as I finish this comment, I’m off to the kitchen to shatter some plates.
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I remember when I noticed the first fine lines under my eyes. I was maybe 30. I did a double take. Still there. Triple take. Damnit! At 59 I know there are many, many more, but I’ve found the secret of eternal youth: avoid mirrors at all cost.
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Well, I’m a little shy of 50 myself, and I’ve gradually been building up my collection of lines. I did manage to lose the crow’s feet at the corner of my eyes, though. They were replaced by ostrich ones.
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Always go big or go home.
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Haha! Quite right! 🙂
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this is quite lovely, but I understand it as a soul and character description, and not in terms of the physical. Am I so wrong?
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I had to think on this. Yes, I meant it as soul and character, but both play out in the physical sphere as well.
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I prefer the high road 🙂
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Oh that’s a very inspiring poem. Going to be with a smile 🙂
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Thank you!
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What did I write? Going to bed, it is what I meant 🙂
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I read between the lines. 😊
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🙂
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So glad you decided to reblog this. I had the chance to read it and I love it.
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Thank you!
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