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If ere the rack of clickity clack should ever clutter down,
And moisten reams of clapboard streams then I will surely drown.
For hammered tops and candle shops stand round me to the end,
And wear the vest of velvet test hoping life to now transcend.
Oh wind the widdle of the hot pot’s spittle with noted truthful verse,
Become aware that the grey March hare has been made into a purse.
Choose the rune then check the tune oh Champion of charlatans,
Drape the shrapneled caskets dappled the evening sunlight now attends,
We’ll sing this song and sail along until the breeze of time shall die,
Then drop the sails and walk the trails that make our mothers cry.
Now you will see the part of me that none other has ever it seems,
The broken parts and shattered hearts that come out in my dreams.
Traveler brave do not try to save just stay here by my side,
And hold my hand and understand that I need you I confide.
For if ere the rack of clickity clack should ever clutter down,
And moisten reams of clapboard streams then I will surely drown.
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--Submitted by lanet on 2011-01-16.
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lanet:
I woke up one Saturday morning and the first line was in my memory from the dream that I had just finished. I ran for my computer and typed out the whole poem in about five minutes. I wish that they were all like that.
Posted 01/27/2011 06:57 AM
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Julianne Carlile:
This is my favorite of your poems so far. I just love the language.
Posted 01/26/2011 09:46 PM
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Phyllis Beckman:
"Traveler brave do not try to save just stay here by my side, and hold my hand and understand that I need you I confide."
I like the way you are explicit in asking for what you need. Most of us give what we think the other needs. It takes courage to say out loud (or in verse) exactly what will be of use.
Posted 01/16/2011 09:02 AM
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