I pass this mailbox several times a week. It always catches my eye, along with the abandoned house on the same plot of land.
I'm curious...what feelings, questions or words does this image evoke in you?
I'm going to write a poem, inspired by this photo. Who knows, maybe your words will find themselves in a stanza.
Thanks for sharing.
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forgotten
private
secrets
I want to be in touch, but not touched
I want to see, but not be
keep out, get away from me
you can't make me feel alive
get back in your car and drive
alone
lonesome
I am
not
I want you to touch me,
I am protected if you do not.
I dare you to touch me
and I will hate you if you do not
What do I care about your pain?
I am too much in pain myself to care.
What a wonderful gift of inspiration...thank you AJ and thank you anonymous for sharing so freely of yourselves.
...and there is 2
aged and barbed wired
rust and blue sky
...i see the 2
where is the 1?
I have memories which nurture, and yet enervate, my life. Is that possible?
Some come to me out of time and place like misdirected mail, fuzzy, unfocused and unwelcome. Some sharp like barbed wire appear as clear as the bones of a pin oak against a winter sky.
They are like family really--all loved, some more than others.
first a comical....
the farmer says to his wife...dorothy I told you I have a new plan to keep the squirrel out of that damn box..I swear if you get bit one more time bringing in the mail we are movin...alas the house is now empty....squirel endures the hardships of the wire to create a warm marvelous safe home...
on a more serious note... I want to hear the news you bring but the guarded self says I can not bear..too much...too soon...too late...is there a way to absorb without pain as I open myself to what news you might bring. Alas I can not bear any more..I depart.
My first thought is "when you're number 2 you try harder." My second is playing with the word "wired" given that we allow wires to connect us and protect us. No poetry from me today but you've definitely got me thinking!
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