So many scared stones
behind the wind
All vacuum-locked together
like mirrors
of silent families
Perpetual mirages
with wheels that race
in cool shadows
that wind
& unwind
I drink to the men
in green
And his dad
that wears a mask
Reflect on that
you need no metaphysics
Only red whisky
and cigarettes
and dreams
of being
Where grit lies
in orderly cubes
Of lions and lambs
and blood
swollen lives
Not with sand
in the souls
of tired boots
And anonymous
edges beveled
in transparent
life
Nostrils flare
with
one for the roads
While portable shrines
are casualties
of the selfish
I will drink
to the green
And to the weight
in shadows
Of substance
Author notes
Cheers....Jason & Joe
A contest entry
- The Wonders by Annalise.
3000 points, ended January 29, 2008, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
"sacred stones"
i like that. i really liked the way this is formatted. really works with the subject matter, i think.
"While portable shrines
are casualties
of the selfish"
bravo!
-
So, so poignant,I felt the ache of those that have to mask their feelings, I will raise a glass to the green too and oh,the weight of shadows.
-
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