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by Pearce Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Sports · #1282058
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.
© Copyright 2007 Pearce (smaypa at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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