Runaway poet

I am the poet without readers,
my eyes catch snowflakes in the clouds,
my fingers ramble through the cinders
of a late season closing doors.

Staying awake, gazing at stars
my rebel dreams vanish away
old songs are smothered in my years
where rhymes can’t find their proper pairs.

Now my embroidered lace is yellow
like pages that were never turned
the print that shaped the verse is old,
in a blind desert a blind train.

.

Advertisements
Categories: My Poems in 2010 | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Post navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.