Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
lovelychickenbonesPoems
Out of the bedroom window I looked At the story seamed like paint splatters before me Squandered in Monday grays and heavy lidded beams, Skinny trees half pirouetting with the Northern master , Wet linens like rainbow dilettantes in their nylon pole slumber beds, The wide sheet that overlooks all now turns in orange luster That mundane truth from the pink sill (I see, I see) An electric post stands above the swampy rice fields A modern mammoth, the millennial miser Perched in its lumpy wires birds mirrored each other like a pair of stilts Whispering like Romans in spite of a forgone Caesar (political and free) That mundane truth from the pink sill (I see, I see) The night creeps like the batting crickets in the yard Harmonizing in crooked ears a silly little hum What I had heard when I was ten, as how everything had Become known strangers scraping at the back of my pendulum That mundane truth from the pink sill (I see, I see) Out of the bedroom window I looked At the story seamed like tell tale signs before me The spit on a once young fool's clarity Sealed in tight frames perennially set in a single motion The old withering passenger squirms in his dinghy Tides of chaos hooding that rage against the universal engine That mundane truth from the pink sill (I'll see, I'll see)
0
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
Out of the Bedroom Window I Looked
Out of the bedroom window I looked At the story seamed like paint splatters before me Squandered in Monday grays and heavy lidded beams, Skinny trees half pirouetting with the Northern master , Wet linens like rainbow dilettantes in their nylon pole slumber beds, The wide sheet that overlooks all now turns in orange luster That mundane truth from the pink sill (I see, I see) An electric post stands above the swampy rice fields A modern mammoth, the millennial miser Perched in its lumpy wires birds mirrored each other like a pair of stilts Whispering like Romans in spite of a forgone Caesar (political and free) That mundane truth from the pink sill (I see, I see) The night creeps like the batting crickets in the yard Harmonizing in crooked ears a silly little hum What I had heard when I was ten, as how everything had Become known strangers scraping at the back of my pendulum That mundane truth from the pink sill (I see, I see) Out of the bedroom window I looked At the story seamed like tell tale signs before me The spit on a once young fool's clarity Sealed in tight frames perennially set in a single motion The old withering passenger squirms in his dinghy Tides of chaos hooding that rage against the universal engine That mundane truth from the pink sill (I'll see, I'll see)
This poem is easily one of my favorites despite the fact that this will probably have people confused.
#truth#fear#life#reality#change#childhood
lovelychickenbones
Written by
lovelychickenbones
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem