Shadows Paint the Walls

My home is warm

where skin blisters

a fragrant smell.

 

But my home is warm

and I survive.

 

Someone is always

telling me to leave,

but home is where

I find my blanket.

 

It is me.

 

Call it sane mayhem,

or little deaths

day-to-day.

 

Home is where my

heart grows soft while

beating time,

and losing clocks

on plastering

and frame.

 

Sadness knows

no limitations as

shadows paint

the walls.

 

2013 Barry Comer

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About Barry Comer

I volunteer as a design and communications consultant with Family Scholar House in Louisville, Kentucky, http://www.familyscholarhouse.org the Democratic Socialists of America http://www.dsausa.org and teach children with emotional and developmental disabilities. I have degrees in art and was an art director for 30 years.
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3 Responses to Shadows Paint the Walls

  1. Uzoma says:

    Oh this is well-written. So beautiful I had to read it a few more times before commenting. Thanks for stopping by my blog. You’ve a new follower from now on…

  2. I know little about poetry, but I know that I think this is beautiful and heartfelt.

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