March 29, 2014

Absent





Back then, 
There used to be some
That will work under the sun
Digging all their hands in the mud
Sweating, building and rising
Building for me and my generation

Faces were curious looking down
Standing behind the curtains
behind the windows

Some faces could only been seen,
Become square as they appear,
From their windows

There were some kids carrying books,
Laughing at other kids when passing.

Sweat and mud filled the air.
People like me would just follow
The song as the builders sing.

The songs, voices would continue
And the windows, become absent faces 
Starring at us.





This poem is written for the promp
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ShadiatiQue ©2010-2014
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9 comments:

  1. kinda scary those faces in the window.
    i would def much rather be out under the sun
    listening to the builders songs....

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  2. This poem seems quite chilling to me. The last stanza especially with the voices and windows becoming absent faces....staring. Thanks for taking part in Poetry Jam.

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  3. Your poem made me think of a dictator, or a dictator's child. Someone who has been set aside from the rest of the population and watch ithers live from afar. Very powerful!

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  4. There is a power in building or setting ourselves to the task,it almost seems to be the story of two covenants. Lots here and very thought provoking.

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  5. the last three lines have an air of deep sadness about them...

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  6. So vivid... & I really like the role of faces in this poem.

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  7. Great images! Loved that line "windows become absent faces" :-)

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  8. the window images; very sad indeed and in such contrast to the ones sweating and building futures


    much love,,,

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  9. Those windows --- haunting and well-described.

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