For one moment
To kiss immortality
Passing briefly
Without return
The grasping of
Its fingertips
As if a dream
Of tumbling words.
Lingering lullaby
Lips of the dead
The slowly closing eye
Its tears now are shed
The old gates lead nowhere
Reluctant to the wind
In an element of fantasy
Pages which have sinned.
The clocks hands frozen
Stains about its face
The faintest hum in unison
Dry lips cracked to taste
False Gods and angels
Tread a weary path
Waiting for a new day
That never comes to pass.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: June 12th, 2026 04:17
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 34
- Users favorite of this poem: Lorenz, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments5
This poem well worded wends its way along forlorn paths that seem to have no end. Very nicely done
Thanking you always appreciated
You are most welcome Norman
a glimpse for an accessible beyond ...
true my friend, thanks for read much appreciated
Good write N. We've become immortal, waiting so long at that bus stop! lol.
I am still waiting lol, thanks for read always appreciated
Norman, the image of the old gates leading nowhere stayed with me. There is something wonderfully unsettling about that idea...a destination that simply vanishes when you arrive. Powerful stuff, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
most kind, thanking you for read, always much appreciated
A thought provoking write ✍️
most kind, thanking you, much appreciated read
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