City shaking; I must be mad
seeing ghosts in halls
of people I could've been
scattered like raindrops
across my bitter face.
I'm trapped beneath stages
of ballerinas
is it their movements
dripping from toe to toe
that are lulling me to sleep,
or is it their tune?
Either way I don't mind.
Watching as the wind falls gently into a barn
then lulls itself to sleep on the hay.
It's going to be ok, I say to myself.
It's going to be ok.
Comments
This is rather brilliant, I really like it
beware of mixing metaphors.
you are so good older poet
your metaphors are wonderful
use spermodicae and vanilla
both are rich in metaphor
the former coined by me
just vanilla also see
great poetry
where have you been
under ghostly dream
another friendly Aussie
comes to me
love the metaphors
its daring in world gone awry
the less restraints are a refreshment
the whole ballerina and barn rain
lines fantastic
and how its run together short
and sweet work
amazing
splendid man
I dug this greatly!
thank U!