No ratings.
The task of poetry in motion
Is illustrated here
Or not really at all |
Sitting here with a TV and a laptop Trying to remain somewhat honest And stay inside and not ever stop To keep the magic of glowing dance flowing To ride the wave to it’s highest crest- A surfer, but only at God’s bequest, The righteous dawn begins to utterly fade Allowing midday’s stoic noon pervade As I follow the clock in perpetual motion There is no stop to the rides and oceans, You see for they are ruled atmospheres Theses times and places that are never free This land and world, everything that is seen As dusk begins to enter like an uninvited guest To his beautiful dieing shining less test Of my limits and my abilities, The liquid horizon now awash in beauty Hints of gushing purple and blue Riding more waves of different tints and tunes Breaking my respite, the end is soon. The sun falls back behind the horizon Still colors reflect yet there is no Orion Forging a path across the not yet blackened sky No there still remains a glint within my eye Holding, holding, one more moment stay Do I plead for naught as I am defeated By the ever encroaching evening greed, Darkness emerges and I recline To allow the wandering of the separate mind Racing along through mystic illusion It prys and seeks through utter delusion Fighting fighting for a piece concrete Helplessly drowning in a liquid landscape I fall and fall waiting for repeat Of the dawn and the sun Rising high on the plain Gleaming the world into light once again. |