Mike carter

Sculptured in Grey

Considerable are our sins profound our words, that echo round empty promises.

that rattle a dusty window wherein are imprisoned images, reflecting shadows from our yesterdays

that deliver tomorrow without design or purpose.

As if Teutonic knights dreamt of blood and destiny.

While heraldic symbols languish resplendently upon a mantle of dust,

laid down by the passage of ignorance and verisimilitude.

How blue then the waves that bleach the bones that feed the sky,

with tendrils of breath sculptured in grey, and laden with salt for a tumultuous day.

As our eyes reveal a soul abandoned in a field where poppies sway.

such a heady scent to lighten the day.

Do we dream in liquid sentences do we walk crab like backwards towards a smile,

that crumbles with the ticking of a clock.

Wearing away at a lifetime of extremes that pass for what we would believe,

while feeding lies into a fire without heat.

Listen we say, while this creature so named loneliness.

Howls at the moon neither bright nor full, but cold sterile turning red into black.

Pledging peace before it attacks.

The softness of sensibilities when we cling to hollow promises, and carnival kisses that dissolve in the cold light of day.

Leaving the scars of lust, to betray the harsh reality of candy coated love.

Which in itself conceals a tell-tale heart weary from pursuit.

Misshapen from arrows of cherubs with cloven hooves, and coal black eyes.

laughing while love drowns beneath a sea of cloudy promises, carried on a platter of transparent lies.

Each moment each stolen breath climaxes with pent up emotion,

that oozes through the pores of our ambition with the certainty of determination and guilt.

Trembling fingers sooth creases on a brow perplexed,

when expectation alas it dissipates with the closing act of a play,

that does not seek an ovation but air fresh and sweet,

To wash away guilt until it returns again in triumph to torture our sensibilities.

To dance unfettered with our emotions to lift us from the mundane to a place where hope practices it craft.

And where the words I love you blush and open the door,

to where we can enjoy those oh so fleeting moments.

When happiness introduces itself in the guise of a carousel.

Where fear and loathing and pain slip silently into the shadows.

Until summoned by reality to rejoin the game.

And so falls the curtain on a play of three acts, those of desire conquest and memory.

Where for a moment the reality of our expectations,

is delivered for the price of a seat that admits us to Valhalla.

And until reality shows us to the door,

and irony hand in hand with truth shakes its head and leads us away.

And so but for a brief moment the fires of happiness curl smoke into the evening air,

as the vessel carrying our aspirations disappears into the rising mists of a tenuous new day.

For this is our reality each contributing to the whole.

where tears irrigate the ground and from which spring the flowers of our personality.

Our dreams and aspirations on this piece of rock this place we call home

this womb from which we sprang these words which we nurture, intrinsic transparent.

We touch the sky with our eyes And the stars become gateways

To our dreams to a paradise we would know be it sculptured in grey

Comments1



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.