“bleak as gravel”

Written for:  The Twiglets #223 - "bleak as gravel"

Her outlook on life
was bleak as the color
of gravel.

Winter's blustery bleakness
blows through trees,
displacing gravel.

gray-speckled gravel
she sifts it through her fingers
bits of her life

               He was a man who loved to travel
              To his enjoyment, it was essential
                 His best friend was fearful
                   and he got an earful–
          Start to live; your life is bleak as gravel.


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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4 Responses to “bleak as gravel”

  1. Misky says:

    As bleak goes, these are pretty darned good.


  2. Jules says:

    I’ve been reading a series (not exactly in order) about a midwife in the late 1700’s early 1800’s – the tenements were very bleak places to live – that’s what your first three verses remind me of.

    Yes, we need to live to not be bleak!


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