~
Sad Existence
It is a sad existence, that of a poet
with flowery phrases and disguised meanings
Tossing out happy faces like quarters
splashing in a wishing well with no bottom
Painting heartstrings in an amber shade of gold
lingering silver linings losing their crease
in frayed bottomed hip huggers
that are long out of style
Swishing fragrant melodies on starch white paper
collecting lines in neat rows and margin’d desires
lips fluttering and eyelashes batting
well below the league's average
Whispering notions of sheer delight,
tantalizing rapid pulses pushing blood
through narrow corridors finding
locked garden entrances in chained Jasmine
Dreaming dreams that only a dreamer could dream
all the while knowing that when they awaken
pen in hand, ink at the ready
these dreams shall never come true
It is a sad existence, that of a poet…who believes their own dreams
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
~
Sad Existence
It is a sad existence, that of a poet
with flowery phrases and disguised meanings
Tossing out happy faces like quarters
splashing in a wishing well with no bottom
Painting heartstrings in an amber shade of gold
lingering silver linings losing their crease
in frayed bottomed hip huggers
that are long out of style
Swishing fragrant melodies on starch white paper
collecting lines in neat rows and margin’d desires
lips fluttering and eyelashes batting
well below the league's average
Whispering notions of sheer delight,
tantalizing rapid pulses pushing blood
through narrow corridors finding
locked garden entrances in chained Jasmine
Dreaming dreams that only a dreamer could dream
all the while knowing that when they awaken
pen in hand, ink at the ready
these dreams shall never come true
It is a sad existence, that of a poet…who believes their own dreams
