Poem of the Day – Bucket Lump

by paturnerlee

 

Bucket Lump

 

 

 

Piles of pockets torn;

 

Crushing crest fallen penance

 

Because we dreamed of picked out harmonies

 

Charming trees that whistle in the wind:

 

Tunes with meaning.

 

 

 

Screaming in torrents of rain splashing

 

Crashing in broken gutters; seems okay to miss appointments.

 

 

 

Strength of clasped veins throbbing

 

Sobbing into ashtrays

 

Fallen guard releases border lines cases

 

Chases the wagon in lace torn dresses

 

Messes with the senses.

 

 

 

Immense as it is

 

As high as the tree is planted

 

Enchanted by the pale green misty pleasure

 

A measure of the times that could be if only

 

We stopped complaining:

 

Chaining ourselves to the present past moment.

 

 

 

No hope for stragglers

 

The ones with the will of a loner

 

Become atoned to resting

 

Sleep in tandem

 

Together rather than apart

 

 

 

May 2nd 2017

 

Patrick Turner-Lee Copyright

 

 

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