A new version of a text from 2006.
whirl to the sound of rainbows over cities
in the early hours of getting close.
Indigested ceremonies of division
plunge personal scopes into revision,
talking nonsense by the window.
The closure of flickering loss
wounds the ticking soul
minutes before the clear sky.
Thus the end an imperfect day
sinks below all that is left
of aspirations and hope,
dragging loss behind drawn curtains.
Stoic intentions fold in sleepy growth
before dark dreams approach.
What is gained will pass,
reduced in reverse with fading figures.
Poetry by Bob
Read 484 times
Written on 2009-05-26 at 23:25
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The end of an imperfect day
Dim definitions of see-through-nesswhirl to the sound of rainbows over cities
in the early hours of getting close.
Indigested ceremonies of division
plunge personal scopes into revision,
talking nonsense by the window.
The closure of flickering loss
wounds the ticking soul
minutes before the clear sky.
Thus the end an imperfect day
sinks below all that is left
of aspirations and hope,
dragging loss behind drawn curtains.
Stoic intentions fold in sleepy growth
before dark dreams approach.
What is gained will pass,
reduced in reverse with fading figures.
Poetry by Bob
Read 484 times
Written on 2009-05-26 at 23:25
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
 by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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