Re: Poetry Corner
I'm not one for poetry, but I wrote this for my Creative Writing class I'm taking, and felt I might as well share it. Any comments, critique, etc. is greatly appreciated.
R.E.M. | G.A.T.E.
When the day flashes lapis-gossamer
in the star-blown sky,
I lie awake and wonder things
while the silent cat-clock tail thrashes in reply,
counting missing moments
that have unknowingly ticked by.
My eyes waver, and they close
I see light breaking through the hallowed clouds
of darkness mixed with rainbow Catherine wheels.
Disfigured colors, where black is white:
a picture of Picasso artistry-
Ah! Such a marvelous sight!
Then I see starlight, vague images of fleeting shadows,
Where houses have no name,
It's a quiet town with thin-waxed candles
with a single, unmarked grave, grazed by winter's chill.
They wait for the spring that is to come
with its immortal daffodils.
I wonder, then, if my hand should hold a sword,
or perhaps a bow or scythe,
as I come upon an ancient castle,
where magic must reside.
Within, I'll fight the fierce chimeras
and ride the pegasi.
But it is then,
I suddenly realize,
That I really should be building
my castle in the sky
where dreams are made of dreams
and never do they die.
But I'm walking on grass now,
(and the sky seems so far away)
My thoughts seem forever trivial,
as light as a cool spring day
Everything is nothing now,
like a child’s honest play.
The scenery is now familiar
I think that I am home, perhaps this time to stay,
Laughing children, familiar faces,
mouths open as if to say,
to come and walk with them once more,
just like yesterday.
Then, that light appears again,
with it's stunning Catherine wheels
and hypnotizing rainbows.
I fight, but lose the battle against the pulling shine--
I jerk and thrash and throw my head upright
into the territory that is mine.
There's no more grass, no more sky
and no more thin-waxed candles,
just a quiet, monochrome world,
where everything is as it seems
It is then, and only then, that I wonder
if perhaps this is a dream.
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