Sunday, August 30, 2009

Sunday Scribblings - Poetry


It had to be precise,
no more and no less.
Her mind would not allow
the simplest of deviations,
She focused on the thread of frustration
causing her stress.

She wanted to play, today.
Her friend unavailable,
Her anger grew.
The fates are so mean,
She just wanted to play.
Now she had no one,
Great, another boring day.

It had to be precise,
No more and no less.
Her mind now steeped,
with unlimited stress.

Come over and enjoy many more fine poems at Sunday Scribblings.

12 comments:

  1. ahhh, i am so deprived of this

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  2. LOL - floreta, I vaugely remember being deprived. I always had a book to read and an imaginary friend to fill the void. Now they whisper stories in my ear. :)

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  3. Savanna - Yep, DD certainly felt like a poor abused darling. hehe Her friend did however come through for a play date...all that wasted angst! ;)

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  4. The simplest of things were so important then! Nice piece.

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  5. quin - It wipes you out, doesn't it! Thanks for stopping

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  6. Thanks Keiths, so true. One misstep or misspoken word and the world seems to come to an end...so much drama in such a small package. :)

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  7. Aww...I remember these days with my daughter. And now she's 18...the time flies! Lovely poem.

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  8. Ah, yes the drama of childhood. I see it and remember it so well. Nice poem.

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  9. Sweetest - Time does indeed fly...I'm amazed by how fast the year have flown. It makes me sad somedays, on the other hand, its incredible to see what an interesting take she has on life...
    Thanks for stopping by

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  10. Thanks Lynda! Yep, childhood...it's a wonder we aren't all shipped off to boarding school somedays. hehe

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