Under a burnt ash of brain, glowing embers of a heart remain
Smoke words raise high, cloud poems in an empty sky
Virgin eyes that stare, see different images in that air
To one a marker of graves, to another a cross that saves
In sparks to smoke dreams depart
From a flaming heart, billowing emotions paint their art
then drift away through the open door of day
Riding on the back of time, smoke rhyme at which we did stare
soon becomes just thin air
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Offline) - Published: July 10th, 2024 06:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments6
Breath in the good shit
Breath out the bullshit! X
Indeed so it would seem. We breath in pollution and out some of the same. Thanks so much for the read and comment it is appreciated.
Well, I want to breathe in fresh air, not 2781's air! lol.
KP is full of hot air, not thin air. lol.
Thanks Orchi I like fresh air too. They tell me I'm full of hot air as well but that comes from the fire in the belly.
Oh lol. Erm, is there any good s**t? And why does it hit the fan? Best stand out of the way of the fan then. lol.
A fight between two, even when the heart pounds sadness and disappointment at the end of the day the air is cleared. Truly beautiful and speaks loud and clear to me. 🌹
Thank you friend for you interpretation of this piece it is most appreciated and valued.
Tremendous work.
Thank you so much Thomas it is appreciated
Short, but the message is clear.
Thanks for the read Dan it is appreciated
Those billowing emotions will always rise with the smoke soren.
Andy
Thanks Andy and so they do. Appreciate the read and comment friend
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