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The fluttering, wishful gray matter
by Keith D AllisonLittle bottles
hiding the reality
bigger bottles
hold the oxygen
to help with the life-giving breeze
Life is good
life is hell
drops of laughter and tears do tell
stories of the faithful
can bring sorrow to the night
Rise old son rise
pour your light out
upon the weary bones
bring forth the rays of hope
The fluttering of dreams
quivering yet strong
dancing on campfires
both young and old
In those moments
when the bodies crushed in bruised
may you have someone gentle caress
for alone you can feel broken and abuse
Yes there are many dreams
in the world of men and boys
probably the most popular
are those of girls and fair ladies
I can remember
when the goddesses walked on the stars
but I'm growing old now the steel hangs upon the wall
the gold is spent only the copper within the pouch
but the sweet flavor is always remember
in the quiet solitude
the fractured bones
in the quiet march of time
will silently mend
In the dreams of the summers ride
time willing
will push forth
into the horizon of the new year
08/02/2012 Author's Note: Well I get to sit around the rest the summer and most of the fall. No money, no honey and no muse. so bring on the one-handed computer games. :)
Posted on 08/03/2012
Copyright © 2024 Keith D Allison
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 08/04/12 at 04:50 AM Maybe your effort here is to make sense of the current plight...if so, the reflection is clear...and you've proven the "muse" is still there. In fact, your current situation may find you needing an extra ream of paper. Perhaps in the solitude our own echos we are truly least alone. I like this a lot, and just maybe multitude and solitude are simply equal and interchangeable terms for the active and prolific poet! Thanks.
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