Standing out of line,
not caring where he'd walk.
The breeze flows through his long brown hair.
The sidewalk flows to the parade he joins
Waving signs,
out of line.
The breeze flies back up to the cloudless sky.
Sailing around the earth,
through the earthly trees the breeze flies over the ocean.
Now it lands back on his hair.
Its' a buzz-cut, and as he watches
the parade marches back into houses,
with children, and
bills to pay.
And his eyes are a little empty
and maybe his hair's a little gray.
And maybe now he's run out of any
thing he'd want to say.
Watching his step
he gets back in line.
Because he's drowned in the mainstream.
Author notes
Written August 24th, 2005
A contest entry
- make love, not war by fall into me.
400 points, ended August 31, 2005, 2 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
-
This is really thought provoking. I'm a hippy with a few grey hairs and I got drowned in the mainstream. Spooky!
I don't live in the mainstream anymore.
I love what you do with the breeze, it brings your words to life and made me think that the same breeze has been in so many places before it lands on our hair connecting people and places. We're all connected!
I like your style, my contest will still be open for 5 more days.
Edited on Aug 31, 4:29 p.m. because ''.
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