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Literature Text
dreamlike the state of mine
of the pastimes of years
the glistening eyes
saturated by tears
gone in a blink of time
the days gone bye
past is the years of children
future the days to renew life
give it a whirl and a light spin
will it wallow in the depths of dark
or securley in the light
deserted on our own
in stinging dark
to find our way homes
your promise of safety
bleached white and stark
fears in their mind
whats in the heart
is spawned now
before frightened eyes
declaration today to see this through
the end draws near
i draw closer sitting tightly with you
the sun sets on the final night
if it ends now it means nothing
this final light is not in the sky
but lives in you eyes
of the pastimes of years
the glistening eyes
saturated by tears
gone in a blink of time
the days gone bye
past is the years of children
future the days to renew life
give it a whirl and a light spin
will it wallow in the depths of dark
or securley in the light
deserted on our own
in stinging dark
to find our way homes
your promise of safety
bleached white and stark
fears in their mind
whats in the heart
is spawned now
before frightened eyes
declaration today to see this through
the end draws near
i draw closer sitting tightly with you
the sun sets on the final night
if it ends now it means nothing
this final light is not in the sky
but lives in you eyes
Literature
Dromomania
Every day I turn the key in the lock
Hoping to find you
tucked into the white folds
of an envelope,
of the bath towel I left on the sofa this morning.
But you and I, we haven't the breadth for that sort of thing.
I wish I could send you something of spring,
some distended meteor green with hope.
I'm watching the last of the oak leaves cling
stubborn
and I think
spring may not be coming this year.
There is no birdsong, there is
the furious sleeping of toads in the mud.
I came on the bench
where I slept in the warmth of your memory
this time last year.
Now the thought seems less mine and maybe it was
me you'd dreamt beside,
m
Literature
In the Syllable
...then there is a way in diswaiting.
Dust some yellow sand covers,
here uncover bare bedding.
...suffusing red planes, blushed dunes,
under incidentally quilted blanket
wet as arid curves, as sounds.
...in a persistent pavement,
in a solemn unsuited promise,
some written words erase
some letters drip and soak
unto a perfuse miracle,
a dislocated split,
a letting go of...
Literature
Tree Leaves
Tree Leaves
I hope that you’re happy,
I hope I am too.
See, we were under a shadow.
It was lovely, true,
But when one day I looked up,
It was then that I knew
I couldn’t stay under tree leaves,
I had to see the sky so blue.
See, under that calm tree,
I couldn’t laugh like I used to.
I forgot how to be me,
And that’s something I couldn’t do.
I couldn’t look at you, closed my eyes
When I said adieu.
But I hope that you’ll smile
And under the sky that I will too.
And for all of our tree leaves,
I’ll hold those mem’ries, and thank you.
thanks for reading
© 2005 - 2024 11th-hour
Comments11
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this poem is powerful and drew me into the words very deeply. beautiful work. thank you for sharing tony.