Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
. The sun pours upward into day And the little cottages by the sea Are smoking, sandy souls are turning In their beds by the glaring windows That hide the birds who were always There singing, this is a new day, wake, Wake into dream they are saying, play, Scurry with wings into light, every branch Is an avenue, each leave a communion, Coffee and tea are soon brewing, tangled In the chlorine mist of the ritual showers. What to wear this self made, self same Day?  Fingers tracing glass, new messages Are frozen in light, so many things to do, Undo, ****** into ones mobile devices, Off to work and pressed into their mask, Ready, makes of shuffles same to endure, Eight hours or more later, the wounds Of indifference, avoidance and deflection Rear and hunch shoulder, weary as it Trumps joy in a limp to shelter, soon Too late to be home, and bathe In the numbing light of situation Comedy, tragedy, star seekers Flail on the flat screens, that's Entertainment, ready, sold, Told for next new days slog, And then, all must off to bed Only to dream mercifully, Again as dear sun is falling, Wakes into lost horizons.
0
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 6:07 PM UTC
Work a Day Whirl
. The sun pours upward into day And the little cottages by the sea Are smoking, sandy souls are turning In their beds by the glaring windows That hide the birds who were always There singing, this is a new day, wake, Wake into dream they are saying, play, Scurry with wings into light, every branch Is an avenue, each leave a communion, Coffee and tea are soon brewing, tangled In the chlorine mist of the ritual showers. What to wear this self made, self same Day?  Fingers tracing glass, new messages Are frozen in light, so many things to do, Undo, ****** into ones mobile devices, Off to work and pressed into their mask, Ready, makes of shuffles same to endure, Eight hours or more later, the wounds Of indifference, avoidance and deflection Rear and hunch shoulder, weary as it Trumps joy in a limp to shelter, soon Too late to be home, and bathe In the numbing light of situation Comedy, tragedy, star seekers Flail on the flat screens, that's Entertainment, ready, sold, Told for next new days slog, And then, all must off to bed Only to dream mercifully, Again as dear sun is falling, Wakes into lost horizons.
ormond
Written by
Irish
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 6:07 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem