 |
 |
 |
| |
belly of the night
Daylight has drained,
the lady is put away in my bed to sleep.
Our apartment is our home, where just as any place else:
meals are prepared,
dreams are put forth,
and mornings come like a sick child in a running bath.
We walk as children and wink
at the moon-lit sky,
juggling our confusion -
where billboards are laughter,
currency of the soul,
and we become a dance,
a melody,
like a family of frogs
dropping down a pathway of lily pads.
We are the brave, desperate criminals.
We are the sleek, white rabbits, the pack of wolves
and the moon lives in our chest.
We see the future, and it fills us heavy -
with life & death,
all the lovers and all the fighters.
Want to comment on this Poetry?
Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
|
 |
|
[Back to top]
|
|
|
|
I to, sorry, you lost me some what, I did get some fantastic images, I loved the line "dreams are put forth" it sums up that from me dreams are out there we jump/fall into them......we don't make them, they happen wiht or with out us.
Thanks
Dan |
|
|
| The first part of the poen was fantastically descriptive but the last two stanzas lost me. Maybe you can mail me and tell me how they matched the rest of the poem, which, even though I did not understand the last two stanzas, was very intriging. I guess it was the way the white reabbits and the pack of wolves didn't create the same image as the rest, and the allusion to death seemed very different from the seeming footlooseness of the first part. |
| 1 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
