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Siddartha

http://www.ubiquitygallery.com


Country: United States

Language: English


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Siddartha  

Artist, Poet, Art Historian

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    Poetry

    The Sting

    I found the hole

    near the entryway to

    our old barn

    once a house to the

    Mountjoy family here on

    Mountjoy Mountain

    where my parents

    built our new home

    in the countryside of

    Virginia.

     

    Immediately, I rummaged

    about for a stick

    that would fit the hole-

    went about cramming

    it in to reveal the

    bees within-

    I placed my bare foot

    over the hole

    feeling their quick stings

    upon the sole of my foot.

     

    Why did I do such a thing

    I can not say-

    my grandpa had visited

    that day

    I had been left with a

    feeling of wanting

    attention to some degree.

     

    Quickly, I ran inside

    screaming for my parents-

    my father came

    asked what the ruckus

    was about-

    I simply swung my

    swollen foot up into

    the air

    after having jumped

    to my bed for safety.

     

    Hurriedly, he went for aid

    brought back wet tobacco

    in paste form

    he had made from his

    very own cigars

    placing it carefully

    upon the ten or more

    brutal stings upon my foot.

     

    Angered, resentful

    yet loving and caring

    he was even though I had

    been so foolish as to

    step on a bees' nest-

    perhaps he knew

    I had done it on

    purpose

    were my thoughts

    as it seemed he knew-

    yet it was like

    that moment

    in the middle of the

    night when my stomach

    cramped, running for the

    bathroom I threw up

    on the floor just before

    reaching the bowl.

     

    Then, again, awakened

    from his Papa Bear sleep

    he was angered, resentful

    yet loving and caring

    gagging at the cleansing

    of his daughter's mess.

     

     

     

     

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