FRENCH WEATHER.

i mined my efforts

with bare hands and wet grit,

and dug up the dream

and nursed the visions.

i spent waking hours

peeking under sunlit blinders,

creating my fortunes

and building my empire.

drowning myself

in sweat and sorrow

to create something to offer

on candle coated altars.

for the eyes surrounding.

to drink.

to partake.

so with blistered palms

and bloodshot eyes,

coffee breath and

exhausted embers

i say to you

wholeheartedly

do not ask me about

the weather in France!

Reviews

[Lorry]

Life, any life can be best summed up by a throwaway comment after a multitude of explanations and thoughts of the life we lead.
Perhaps those end lines of yours speak more of the way humour in the face of adversity, which we all face at some point.
I like the twist at the end and could imagine it being infectious... but thats got nothing to do with the review, or how the cost of living increases make my coffee taste bitter! 😀

[Michael Sun Bear]

For me, your last two lines turned your poem into something resembling a Sufi teaching story. Such stories ma seem nonsensical, may surprise the reader. They are designed to sneak Truths past the many layers of conditioning almost every human has acquired and which block real learning. You certainly inspired me to read your poem through again and yet again.

[Kenneth The Poet]

I like this piece. There's a humor here underneath the harshness experienced by our subject. And that ending, love it!

[Emunah June.]

Thank you so much! I sincerely appreciate it!!

[Davidgeo]

The health care career in general sounds like an addiction. No wonder why you guys always end up hanging out with meth addicts at some point.

[Emunah June.]

Hmm, maybe? Although, honestly, this poem was not written with healthcare in mind at all.