Date: 01/23/02
Setting: Life after college--during second post-college job
Form: Free verse
They were worked to the bone
Their fragile shape
tossed and beaten
left to the elements of nature
drenched and frozen
They were regarded as tools
Their obvious color
exploited and marred
left to fend for themselves
trampled and broken
They were more than that to us
Their humble existence
tortured and abused
left us to save them
relieve and relinquish
They were more than just road cones
Notes: When I was in high school...well let's just say we did some odd things, but then again who didn't. Right? For the life of me I cannot remember what C.O.N.E.S. stood for, but it was made up well after we had concluded the senseless acts of youth.
Three years ago, I was working with an eighth grade teacher and her class as they wrote narratives; the honors class was challenged to write a narrative from the perspective of an inanimate object. Inspired by this, I wrote a narrative from the point of view of a road cone. It was quite an interesting idea, but it had within it a touch of reality.
Artifact I: A copy of the poem printed with a cone in the background.
Artifact I: A copy of the poem printed with a cone in the background.
smiles....more than cones...i like the premise of this poem...the saving of those labeled as miniscule or just things...shows a bit of the heart...pretty cool....
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