time is a sleeping garden


time is a sleeping garden
in early winter creeping
twice sold and left for a run
at the races of rhymes

dare is a rare commodity
amongst the ones
with nothing more to lose
than frozen soil

solidity and no more shoes
to armies on the run
from severity's children
the abandoned ones




Poetry by Bob
Read 706 times
Written on 2016-11-13 at 20:57

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text



The title itself is a vision of its own equating the passing of time and a sleeping garden, how apt. The poem creates images upon images which deepen with each stanza. I enjoyed this one very much.
Ashe
2016-11-14


Kathy Lockhart
and here I am again, seeing visions and feeling deeply while reading your poetry.
2016-11-13