Poetry.Com SUCKS.
Okay. So I have to get some form of monetary award because I need stuff to make me look good on college applications. Unfortunately, poetry.com has some 20 line limit on poem entries. I guess I'll put it here. Somebody, PLEASE, appreciate my work.
Guilt
The clatter, clatter behind me.
A voice.
"Excuse me!"
I turn, caught off guard.
Flustered.
"Have you seen my bag?"
The sun is blinding.
I answer.
"No, sorry, I haven’t."
She’s pushing a buggy.
Desperate.
"I thought you might have."
She looks disheveled, lost.
Questions.
"Is she homeless?"
Her breaths are shallow.
Heavy.
"Okay. Thank you."
What do I say to her?
Nervous.
"I’m so sorry."
Not for her bag, but
Her life.
"I haven’t seen it."
She stops like a dirty bust.
Breathes out.
"It - it wasn’t much. But it was important."
My mind is filled with
Questions.
"Is that all she has?"
The heat makes me dizzy.
Walk away.
"I’m sorry."
I hear her voice behind me.
I turn.
"Excuse me!"
She speaks to another man.
Desperate.
"Have you seen my bag?"
FIN.
So... tell me what you think?
Guilt
The clatter, clatter behind me.
A voice.
"Excuse me!"
I turn, caught off guard.
Flustered.
"Have you seen my bag?"
The sun is blinding.
I answer.
"No, sorry, I haven’t."
She’s pushing a buggy.
Desperate.
"I thought you might have."
She looks disheveled, lost.
Questions.
"Is she homeless?"
Her breaths are shallow.
Heavy.
"Okay. Thank you."
What do I say to her?
Nervous.
"I’m so sorry."
Not for her bag, but
Her life.
"I haven’t seen it."
She stops like a dirty bust.
Breathes out.
"It - it wasn’t much. But it was important."
My mind is filled with
Questions.
"Is that all she has?"
The heat makes me dizzy.
Walk away.
"I’m sorry."
I hear her voice behind me.
I turn.
"Excuse me!"
She speaks to another man.
Desperate.
"Have you seen my bag?"
FIN.
So... tell me what you think?