Visions
Small poems for when you can't complete poems:
VISION I
When I looked up against the sky,
My eyes were strained and I thought I saw,
A soaring phoenix that pierced the clouds.
Its eyes though golden, seemed lost and confused,
Its mouth agape in silenced cry.
VISION II
The winter winds are passing by.
The eyes are staring back at me.
Talk to me of a sweet and gone past,
Talk to me about love and about regret.
And about the most beautiful being,
I had ever met.
Talk to me so I can remember,
In the heavenly hours of the dusk,
How her hair was as light as air,
How her breaths were a whiff of musk.
VISION III
His mother is an old lady who lives uptown.
A lady who once was a joy to see.
Though her skin is creased, her eyes are wide,
Her voice is crisp,
Her mouth crunches on crumpets,
As she gulps down tea.
Her hands are soft and smooth to the touch,
Sixty seven years she walked this Earth.
You see her pass, and you roll your eyes,
Then you murmur to your friends,
About how this woman is one of those loons.
She measured her life in coffee spoons,
But she doesn't care, not anymore,
You do not care when you do not see.
VISION IV
My ears are straining for more noise,
For more life lurking in the shadowed hills.
For greenery and clouds and something to feel alive about,
I yearn for daffodils.
VISION V
The walls are staring down at me,
In regret and pain, they bring me shame.
There's a voice outside that shouts and screams,
We're all the same.
VISION VI
To the crackle of fire, we sat and talked.
And the fire talked right back at me.
It asks whether I've heard,
And did I see,
Once beauty that made me speechless?
I stare back at the fire and begin to talk,
To realize it is nothing but a hallucination,
A short walk,
Through my mind.
VISION VII
In the lonely moments of clarity,
We realize what we can really be.
As my mind slowly derails,
And my senses give up on me.
When the walls are staring down at me.
When the corridors are empty,
And the heart is free.
VISION VIII:
Surreal and sordid are the things I see.
And almost none stick in mind.
And with every breath, a step is made,
And with every step, I die inside.
VISION IX:
There is time in a moment past,
For a hundred second thoughts,
For a thousand hesitations,
With a hint of indecision.
A minute it took to write this verse.
There are a million decisions,
That a minute will reverse.
2 comments:
I don't know about you but they seem complete to me!
They were such nice reads and I especially liked Vision III and Vision IX.
Very nice Threads! =D
Thank you G, I'm glad you liked them!
I always return to them to add an extra vision or two which is why this piece is doomed to be incomplete forever =D
Thanks for stopping by again!
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