Poetry Visualized

Bones

Bones

Bones of contention are lying
within the hard scrabble.
Following the path
of least resistance
through the bone yard.
They are kicked aside
and collect in piles
to allow for easy egress
to favored distraction.

Disassembled skeletons of fear.

It’s not a graveyard,
it’s a bone yard
of grievance,
regret and worry.

Funny bones avoid this place
because there’s no elbow room.

206 bones from head to toe,
the body is so resilient and self healing.
Bones of spirit are infinite
so many are broken
fractured and unmended.

Lying upon
the hard scrabble,
under foot,
littered bones
hindering the path.
Blocking elusive
satisfaction.

I gotta bone to pick with my soul,
I got bones to pick with my soul.
And I sit here gnawing on my skull,
Stacking bones of contention.