Written for:  The Twiglets #69 – “started to sink”

nature’s game
of power–
start a sinkhole

she sank
into a well
of depression

red sun sinks into ocean

The infamous Mr. Pink
wanted everyone else to think
he was a top-notch sailor
but he proved a failure.
Drunken hijinks caused him to sink.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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6 Responses to sink

  1. Misky says:

    Very nicely done. I think I prefer the second poem but probably because our endless drizzle and grey is eating away at my mood.


  2. Candy says:

    poor Mr Pink 😉 You have a wide range of moods here. (something for everyone)


  3. Jules says:

    Yep, Nature has power… some pot holes expand!
    I remember seeing an artist who did a 3D ‘sink hole’ chalk drawing on a roadway that led down to who knows where…
    here’s a few:


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