When all you get are fragments

Another attempt at a fragment poem for dverse.

When all you get are fragments

and then another one sails,
drifts, ash from a bonfire,
settling on the green, white wings folding
and hackles fluttering in the breeze,

while I take a sip of coffee,
radio blather breaking the silence
into brittle splinters.
The door slams

paint chips every time.
I’ve told her but she doesn’t care.
Anger always in the air
like cordite.
I wish

the weather would break
if the wind changed
blow away the dead weight of heat,
the sun so bright it hurts,
and in the limp shade
no birds sing, as if

the world was waiting for the end—
listen,
I hear the boots marching.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

20 thoughts on “When all you get are fragments”

  1. A real chill comes over me reading this…I seek something, somewhere in the fragments that is warm, reassuring, and find it in your coffee, but then am swept away again…a wonderful read, I realise this fragments concept is a real art, as practiced here…

    1. Thank you! I tried something a but different here, linking the stanzas with run-ons that work grammatically but don’t follow the same image or direction. Glad you think it works 🙂

    1. It’s always there beneath the peaceful surface. In every family there’s one child who slams doors and doesn’t care. Thankfully they usually grow out of it, and the calm returns 🙂

  2. Yo Jane — I am in the half-sleep insomniac bloom of zolpidem, but I like your work. I will return when I am once again razored out to write a ringing comment! ✌🏼❤️

    1. Thanks Björn. I don’t know that expression, but I like the sound of an exquisite corpse. I tried to get the stanzas to run on grammatically even if they went off in different directions.

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