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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