It’s like reading poetry,
presumptuous feeling
I drift surreal
on the arms of the autumn wind
with nothing to restrain my mind
relying fully
on a few gaudy synthetic bubbles
and poetry
to carry me over
a world of dwarfed troubles,
a canopy of roof-tops
of pasture and sea
sprawled in a patch-work quilt
far, far beneath me
It’s so quiet here….
Mo-o-o-o-m!
Where’s my hat?
Jolt!
Bump!
Reality!
Janet Martin
Reading like poetry...SUPERB!
ReplyDeletea song, this is?
gt, I thank you
ReplyDeleteJanet this is amazing....you captured the poem and the poet here....lovely writing indeed!
ReplyDelete:-)
Carrie, I admire and am moved by every poem you write. I thank you for your kind words.
ReplyDeleteThat is the problem with a poet's life. Reality keeps intruding.
ReplyDeletegotta love that reality! there's a lot of it happening around here right now.
ReplyDelete