Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I carry it well this weight of mine. My boots dig in, and I trudge forward, as I travel through these endless plains of time. Golden Roses, up to their necks in red From the rays of, Mid-Day Sun. as he sits, laughing overhead. They fall victim to my weight. I yield, to passing serpents, rattlers on their ends, alone on a dusty trail. I stop at a rock, balanced upon another, a perfect equilibrium. Achieved in a state of quintessential delirium. I remove the pack from my back. Ease these callused shoulders, a dangerous embrace, from this mid-day sun. The heat becomes a temporary weight to carry on. Carabineers gripping tight; to things I’d rather leave behind. Let them rest on the neighbor’s lawn, forgotten cells, lying on the rocks of a riverbed. Let them rot in the broken complex, ****** away in an indigo vortex. Let them slip between the floorboards, of a weathered porch. Rage blind eyes make way for a deafening silence. The time has come, empty that pack and carry on into the setting sun.
0
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 2:41 AM UTC
Desert Highway
I carry it well this weight of mine. My boots dig in, and I trudge forward, as I travel through these endless plains of time. Golden Roses, up to their necks in red From the rays of, Mid-Day Sun. as he sits, laughing overhead. They fall victim to my weight. I yield, to passing serpents, rattlers on their ends, alone on a dusty trail. I stop at a rock, balanced upon another, a perfect equilibrium. Achieved in a state of quintessential delirium. I remove the pack from my back. Ease these callused shoulders, a dangerous embrace, from this mid-day sun. The heat becomes a temporary weight to carry on. Carabineers gripping tight; to things I’d rather leave behind. Let them rest on the neighbor’s lawn, forgotten cells, lying on the rocks of a riverbed. Let them rot in the broken complex, ****** away in an indigo vortex. Let them slip between the floorboards, of a weathered porch. Rage blind eyes make way for a deafening silence. The time has come, empty that pack and carry on into the setting sun.
devon-2
Written by
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 2:41 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem