Dust of a dream swept out the door
Calloused mirror fractured broken
Wind caught on a nail, too blind to be poor
Time melted into yesterday's word spoken
Drunken day stumbles and falls
Tomorrow's hangover buried under my pillow
Each day's coffins charred under black palls
Dark clouds of menaced meaning billow
Vintage air bottled in mason jars
Two hundred proof, to sip only
A shadow held back by bars
Smokeless flame painted lonely
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Offline) - Published: September 23rd, 2024 04:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 93
- Users favorite of this poem: domilla
Offline)
Comments6
How funny the dream I had last night was turned to dust, what an beautiful way of deflating hope not everything can turn out perfect and although most of my dreams are in fact living proof of who I am some are just dust. 🌹 Most enjoyed dear sorrenbarret 🌹
Thank you so much my friend for the review and encouraging words of hope. Hope the dust of your dream left no mess to clean up
Sometimes they do. 🌹
it's where and what in fact I suspect everything will eventually end up .. I guess that's why I try to enjoy every moment .. Nice one sorenbarrett very nice indeed .. Neville
Thanks so much Neville yes everything cycles. Appreciate the support.
so where can I find these jars of vintage air? Maybe then I could be eloquent too. Very nice.
Thanks Dan everyone says I'm full of hot air I bottle them at home so as not to pollute the rest of the atmosphere. Thanks Dan appreciate the read
Such true words soren, those dreams take us to some strange places.
Andy
Thanks Andy appreciate it
A fine write, Soren.
Thanks Tom your read and words are appreciated
Mighty images, familiar but filled with image and meaning. Resonates with souls well traveled 🙏🏻
Thanks so much for the read and kind words. I'm awaiting more of your work my friend
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