Handbasket

[billy]

Cradled in her arms and swaddled in a pink cotton blanket,
it pulsed with real, red blood.

He said it was cute and asked for a sandwich.

Blowing through the door attached to a delicate arm and filled to the brim
with wildflowers dangling, it was only a mirror of her wants.

He thinks she is silly, but says nothing.

It will be years before the announcer steps in front of the playback
to explain every gory detail. Today hope is strong.

There is no baby....it can be anything you want it to be.
He did like what he saw her do
and the one to blow thru the door....the door was the glass mirror OMG....Brilliant Poem...Don't change a thing....

yes, it's red sports car. ....respond to the poem, not to those who give feedback.

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i've read the whole thread, my take is this, if most people don't get it, then the there's a problem. i would never have got it in a hundred years. the fisrt image screams out to me "baby" as a metaphor it doesn't work simply because the literal image is too strong. i'm presuming todd got it simply because some didn't, often you'll see those who reply later are nearer the mark (no pun intended) because they now know what it is not.

back to the poem;
the sandwich line; again the image feels literal and in relationship with the first couplet.

the wildflowers dangling come into play as a metaphor but only as far as mourning/loss, which could denote the death of her of the child.


the reader reads, the poet writes. both are two differnt animals. for me this poem feels okay as a baby poem but lacks as a to hell in a handcart/basket poem.

thick skin mark, you have to grow one, we all do, many of my poems are worse than this which isn't that bad. you need to do an edit. don't bite the hand that feeds you (a metaphor for people who give you feedback) if you don't like it or think it silly, just say thank you, by all means ask questions as to why but be pleasant about it. is it a red sportcar in the basket

Cradled in her arms and swaddled in a pink cotton blanket,
it pulsed with real, red blood.

He said it was cute and asked for a sandwich.

Blowing through the door attached to a delicate arm and filled to the brim
with wildflowers dangling, it was only a mirror of her wants.

He thinks she is silly, but says nothing.

It will be years before the announcer steps in front of the playback
to explain every gory detail. Today hope is strong.