Thirteen ways to fall.

[size=150]Thirteen ways to fall.[/size]
[size=125]
[i]Falling she says. I’m falling.
And in turn I run.
Down the stairs and out the door
Barefeet slip-slapping
Shirtsleeves flip-flapping.
Crows feet at my eyes and arms outspread.
Like wings.
Heart aflutter mouth asplutter
Invective without directive
Blood charging through my face.
I’m falling I say. And sure enough
I hit the ground full tilt like the world
turned ninety degrees
in an instant.

Fallen. Felled. I feel battered, splattered
Beaten, barked. Harsh breathing.
Focus. There are feet at my face.
Fluffy slippers.
You fell she said.
Ouch. I said. You’re observant.
fucker she said.
Banana skin girl big cheesy grin.
All food and sustenance, mead and maul
Big blooming cheeks florid forlorn
Why ? she says.
You fell I said.
That’s cheating. That’s what.
Not the deal we dealt ourselves.

Addressed from on high
Stooden up, dressed down; dusted off, turned around.
Sick of being prepositioned,
Conjugated to death
I’m dragged like Peter’s shadow
restitched by Wendy,
flat on my black,
home.
Where the heart isn’t
(Wasn’t/hasn’t been).
Tense. Nervous. Headache.
She triple locks the doors and the windows
Plugs up the plugholes and bricks up the flue.
My father christmas days are over she tells me[/i][/size].

Wonderful! One doesn’t follow along with this poem so much as “fall” along with it. Beautifully paced.

Why don’t we see more of your stuff here, Igor?

Thanks rainey, I’d post more, but I don’t get out much.

Fantastic.

You read very familiar, Igor, but, over this,I won’t obsess. Instead, I will simply say, nice poem.

Nice poem.

Thank you ladieth and gentlemen. Igor ith pleathed.

Anita eth, why don’t you potht thome of your wordth here…? What - no poetry in your thole…?

(for ichthus). :wink:

Yes, I second that. There is a poet inside Anita, I am certain.

C’mon, Anita. Please??

Um, if all of you guys agree to donate some of your poetic talents to me, then I might be able to put a verse together. Otherwise? Sadly, I have no literary talent of my own. :frowning: You should see the lovely shade of green I turn whenever reading your stuff. Sigh.

(the ichthus reference must be an inside joke?)

yeth. He alerted me to the perilth of thtepping out of character.

Via PM I incorrectly corrected a non-typo, and made the observation that he wasn’t talking like Igor anymore, is all. I did not comment on whether or not it was good or bad (the poem, or the stepping out of character).

I have no room to give a critique.

Nice writings, Igor :wink: