Friday, November 02, 2007

Awake I Lie In Solitude

Some days I hate myself
Catalogued feelings on the shelf
Come toppling down in torrents
When awake I lie in solitude

Thinking of the minutes wasted
Beauty so oft never tasted
I shudder in resentment
When awake I lie in solitude

An overhead plain of white ceiling plaster
Into which sinks the day's disaster
A multitude of careless mistakes
When awake i lie in solitude

Gradually dim the negativities
Like the city lights, I find clarity
Sleep she crawls like a snake
And my lids close in solitude







2 comments:

Sweetstickychewy said...

beautifully written

daisies said...

the last two lines .. linger beautifully, 'sleep she crawls like a snake' ~ love love love ...

Poetry

when language like bubbling streams flow




when words are laid down to fit like lovers' hands




when you feel the essence of the poet from within




when swirling thoughts are caught in the net of rhythm



when images reel as you read




when pen and paper create a symphony




then, it is poetry
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