I watch the shivering clouds drift by ,
sketching out imaginary continents
with no borders other than those
of my caprice...
Poetic alchemy of the ephemeral .
I am the ordinary witness of a sorcery
who holds the key to a parallel universe
where fantasy plays tricks on reason...
Utopia of a trip to the moon...
It's the first day of summer
and I haven't been born yet ...
already filled with nostalgia
for so many wanderings yet to come ...
As if Vivaldi were painting new seasons .
Or if history were already written
in a few weather patterns ...
It's the first day of summer .
when we wish we could hold on
to our youth forever ...
In memory of you, I'll gather a few fallen leaves,
carving on them, words than cannot be spoken
but offered to the silence of november's sons...
You should always draw smiles on melancholy
to forget loneliness ...
I am waiting for you on this imaginary continent
where I walk on clouds in open space ...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 14th, 2026 10:53
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson), Ellen Marsell, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments4
beautiful write and a fav
I was watching the clouds drift by as I sat on the terrace of a café .They always have something to tell us !
so true
This poem leaves a lingering musical aftertaste, like the final notes of a Vivaldi violin slowly fading into silence while quietly redrawing the landscape of the inner self. I enjoyed it very much.
Musician paint the clouds .Painters put notes on a canvas !
Beautifully state a proclamation so to speak Lorenz. Nicely done
With my usual discretion when it comes to feelings...
Lorenz, wow...this really moved me, my friend. It feels dreamlike in the best possible way, drifting between memory, longing, and wonder without ever settling in one place for too long. I found myself happily wandering right along with it. A fave for sure.🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
This world of dream and wandering from which we draw poetic inspiration...
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