A tipped bottle on the windowsill
next to the wine cascade,
overlooked by the
half (empty) moon.
The cat that painted autumn
upon the trees, forgot me, instead,
green turned straight
into naked bark.
Yet, pleading for prestige is
ironic like the speech made
by a cartoon character.
It must be humoured
like a neon kiss
from a stranger,
and then discarded
with the sketchy magazine.
Hushed away,
with the spilt fruit juices,
mopped up by my
dirty smile
(that were hidden up my sleeve.)
Usually, I leave
the mess for the morning.
But, tomorrow is for sale.
Author notes
Written October 15th, 2006
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yes tom is something we can never know or predict and yes it can be for sale still we have to hope for a better tomorrow which might buy us happiness,may all your days be happy full of unspilled juices,great write,keep going
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yes tom is something we can never know or predict and yes it can be for sale still we have to hope for a better tomorrow which might buy us happiness,may all your days be happy full of unspilled juices,great write,keep going
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yes tom is something we can never know or predict and yes it can be for sale still we have to hope for a better tomorrow which might buy us happiness,may all your days be happy full of unspilled juices,great write,keep going
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Thanks!
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Although one may be slightly confused as to where exactly this poem is going, I must say I still loved it. Its probably what made me like it more! So many clever ideas/phrases that I really liked, such as:
"Usually, I leave
the mess for the morning.
But, tomorrow is for sale"
And the way you added "empty" in brackets between half and moon put a different perspective on that line for me.
Need I say more? I think not.....
Keep sharing
x
Edited on Oct 16, 4:12 p.m. because ''.
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