Monday, January 2, 2012

Burned Bread


image borrowed from bing

Burned Bread

Sometimes God can be a mad baker,
and some souls wander about overdone.

It would be wise to give a wide berth
to the man with the mind as narrow
as Portuguese village streets;

you may not notice him at first,
nearly invisible in our midsts,
never holding anyone’s gaze,
never venturing off center,
never traveling at night
without a substantial light,

quivering in the presence
of his own shadow, disliking,
perhaps even hating himself
and blissfully ignorant of it.

He refuses to glance into mirrors
because he actively fears that within
the cold depths of that terrible reflection
his icy soul prowls dark and dangerous,

and if he actually saw himself he might
shatter like plastic pulled from dry ice,
and the unrecognizable visage would
not be the person he perceives he is,

leaving him lost in the translation,
so he desperately clings to his habit
of stamping his false icon on the furrowed
brows of passers by, imprinting a lie

like a postmaster gone mad, stamping
and re-stamping, a man half swallowed,
with edges as black as char, burned
and brittle, with no sleeves ever long
enough to cover them.

Glenn Buttkus

January 2012

Listed as #98 over on dVerse Poets, Open Link Night 25

Would you like to hear the author recite this poem?

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

Excellent, very dark

Brian Miller said...

dang nice intensive to this...the pastman stamping stanza was my fav...grat opening as well...there are certainly some over done ones that i know...

Beth Winter said...

Oh, I have to agree with Brian. This is intense and dark. Even so, it is relatable. Well done

Marian Haddad said...

Poem contains a beautifully arrived at rhymed couplet, good rhythm and sound, and a very powerful close.

JeanTraveling said...

A acid trip . . . one of the bad kind . . . to be saved perhaps by a bowl of freshly incubated yogurt.

tinkwelborn said...

Burned Bread and God as a baker…sometimes a bad baker…this is an good take on the anomalous
man. excuses Him, doesn't it?
Tis a dark piece on the suffering heel.
I like the simile of a postmaster gone mad.
very nice write.

Claudia said...

fine poem glenn...this brightened my day a bit...thanks..smiles
like a postmaster gone mad, stamping
and re-stamping, a man half swallowed,
with edges as black as char.. this is just awesome..love the intensity through out

Sheila Moore said...

a man half swallowed,
with edges as black as char, burned
and brittle, with no sleeves ever long
enough to cover them - this ending is so frightening to me (I literally felt my eyes widen with fear at the image this produced) nicely written.