moon dime
Posted: May 12th, 2017, 7:46 pm
the full moon whispers through the trees
the words come out at night
I reach for a pen or a black ocean
the gypsies dance in the moonlight
history closes its dilapidated book cover
nothing between its pages
that was said and what was left unsaid
this is where the poetry begins...
the poet walks down tree lined lanes
of antiquity
dreams wander the temple ruins
we are the stuff of nightmares
history is its name
a poet is a figment of your imagination
we exist in a moment somewhere in 1971
or two, I open the book of poems
and I am gone in the wave of graves
the words come out at night
I reach for a pen or a black ocean
the gypsies dance in the moonlight
history closes its dilapidated book cover
nothing between its pages
that was said and what was left unsaid
this is where the poetry begins...
the poet walks down tree lined lanes
of antiquity
dreams wander the temple ruins
we are the stuff of nightmares
history is its name
a poet is a figment of your imagination
we exist in a moment somewhere in 1971
or two, I open the book of poems
and I am gone in the wave of graves