Memory is dust, once or twice remembered,
and from it’s source particulate and strangely
collected here across the room, on these books and figurines,
unread, intended and arrested by these dreams.
I always wonder,
about this room and dust,
just a solipsistic specter
or a detail meaningless
except that it’s remembered?
A contest entry
- Searching For New Favourites ♥ by Immortal Obscurity.
1750 points, ended April 9, 2008, 51 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I love the subject you have taken to discuss and to make a point of the poetry here..very universal as well..well done poetry....
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Hmmm... I'm not too sure what your message was, but you used a lot of wonderful words here... That fourth line about 'arresting these dreams' was my favourite. Well done, and good luck!
Laura xxx -
particles are memory..and memory, particles of a greater body of clay..non?
Philosophical indeed.
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