Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Tags
#countyside
For Kara-- I was an idle mind miles out at the wheel, just combustion On a road.  The borderlands Lose their sense of place and aim Just skirting the middle space with no face or claim to Dauphin, Lebanon, or Lancaster. I’ve given my love to any of the three One is in memories and One is in late, and One is where I graciously keep moored The threads of my rebirth. These signs are riddled in bullet holes, their figures Come to semblance of entangles, brilliant in brunette And a gaze, reluctant ever to be caught, I wouldn’t wish to go back If she could be remade from bones, copse, and sunlight Through auric clouds of mayflies. But, the illusion scatters, and in its lack, I do find her, much more real than ever She is what keeps me settled in the several fawning hours And though weak from sleep she’s the very victory of a single breathe I start my day believing in, that she’s a spirit, There’s this life of hers inside the countryside Like winds who speak in sweetened tones, mild In mockery and bewilderment, the very grip of control Has her fingers playing palmistry, pretending magic Distorting the sad matter of earth, her very being is a song That to lose or to grieve my lonely way I, to Mt. Hope, find clear direction back. Fall in love with Lancaster girls and they can break your heart They'll have you already like rolling hills and city lights, And she is the entire scene commingling Where it ought, that summer aura of hers Is a blessing just so hard to bear, For stories are not so wearing on me, they are easier to believe. I no longer need to pretend That airplanes are shooting stars When there’s no need for wishing to a home Where the heart is anymore; there is the Hand that leads me everywhere, Back to the miles of shimmering land Where one hears always sighs of content And rests easy in disbelief.
0
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 8:30 PM UTC
jp-goss
Lancaster
For Kara-- I was an idle mind miles out at the wheel, just combustion On a road.  The borderlands Lose their sense of place and aim Just skirting the middle space with no face or claim to Dauphin, Lebanon, or Lancaster. I’ve given my love to any of the three One is in memories and One is in late, and One is where I graciously keep moored The threads of my rebirth. These signs are riddled in bullet holes, their figures Come to semblance of entangles, brilliant in brunette And a gaze, reluctant ever to be caught, I wouldn’t wish to go back If she could be remade from bones, copse, and sunlight Through auric clouds of mayflies. But, the illusion scatters, and in its lack, I do find her, much more real than ever She is what keeps me settled in the several fawning hours And though weak from sleep she’s the very victory of a single breathe I start my day believing in, that she’s a spirit, There’s this life of hers inside the countryside Like winds who speak in sweetened tones, mild In mockery and bewilderment, the very grip of control Has her fingers playing palmistry, pretending magic Distorting the sad matter of earth, her very being is a song That to lose or to grieve my lonely way I, to Mt. Hope, find clear direction back. Fall in love with Lancaster girls and they can break your heart They'll have you already like rolling hills and city lights, And she is the entire scene commingling Where it ought, that summer aura of hers Is a blessing just so hard to bear, For stories are not so wearing on me, they are easier to believe. I no longer need to pretend That airplanes are shooting stars When there’s no need for wishing to a home Where the heart is anymore; there is the Hand that leads me everywhere, Back to the miles of shimmering land Where one hears always sighs of content And rests easy in disbelief.
Continue reading...
43