torrents

torrents of day's whirl leftovers sinks
is all a matter of finding short less balance
between old man dancing and his drinks
and the I that never left I or I with a chance

dying is phosphorous with a blue light
scavenging through garbage in the sun
the I in the short of it fails to flicker white
while a fugitive in a race on the run

dreary is the dark hour of disdain
where the watching multitudes
scorns he that walks with pain
with I present daring the dudes




Poetry by Bob
Read 838 times
Written on 2015-06-16 at 16:38

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Interesting. Probably too deep for a superficial soul like myself. Sounds like a battle between a younger and older self.
2015-06-19


Bob
most of what I write is a kind of celebration albeit dark and depressive but the mere fact that we exist on the brink of extinction is a marvel
so
even in my grottiest moments I do celebrate the time I am still here
2015-06-17



ha ha ha ... ok, not morbid at all. It seems more a celebration of the I and the unique I. Closer?
Ashe
2015-06-16


Bob
changed it a bit
2015-06-16



Very reflective poem filled with metaphors and images of life. I love the morbid sound of it.
~Ashe
2015-06-16